


These Violent Delights

by SlytherinSnitches (Lovelyclo465)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Half-Blood Prince AU, Minor Violence, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-03-09 11:49:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3248591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lovelyclo465/pseuds/SlytherinSnitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco Malfoy has been punished for actions that were not his own. He has been cursed for his father's missteps, and now he must face the consequences. Draco Malfoy is a werewolf. As he enters his sixth year at Hogwarts vulnerable and basically alone, his growing need for what he hates the most torments him. Will he give in to his most sinful desires?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_A/n: Hello! Welcome, friends! A few things you should know before we begin: this story is inspired by the headcanon of a miss peppermonster on tumblr, so credit to her for the idea. Second, a portion if this chapter is basically lifted directly from HBP. It’s important to the story, you’ll see why, but it has been changed around to fit Draco’s point of view. All of the dialogue is the same in this part and most of the… er… stage direction. Other than that, everything else is my original writing. Enjoy! Don’t forget to Favorite, Follow, and Review!_

**_They say the devil is an artist, and if that’s so, then maybe I am his greatest piece yet._ **

Draco Malfoy examined himself in the long, full length mirror in his bathroom. He was naked, beads of water dripped down his freshly showered body. He looked up and down himself, he had toned muscles from quidditch, but he was thinner, he thought. His skin had a greyish tinge to it, and there were purple bags under his eyes. He sighed, drying himself with a fluffy white towel and pulling on his favorite silk pajamas.

School was starting soon and Draco couldn’t wait to get back. After a summer filled with limited communication from everybody, he was excited for some human interaction, even if it was with people he generally despised.

Hogwarts offered a certain warmth that the Malfoy Manor did not. Although Draco loved his home- with its large floor to ceiling windows and numerous libraries and fireplaces- it was a lonely place. It was cold, as if people didn’t actually live there. It was silent, so much different from the din of a thousand voices that reverberated constantly (except when everyone was sleeping) from the solid stone walls. He missed the torch lights dancing along the corridor floors, and he missed the way the smell of breakfast or lunch or dinner would waft through the air and tickle the nose of anybody who happened to inhale sharply.

He missed the way the rain would patter lightly against the glass, and the way he could watch the sun refract through the lake in the common room. He missed being with familiar people, and he missed learning. He missed absorbing knowledge and grinding his teeth over a tough assignment in the dark in a secluded corner of the library at 3 o’clock in the morning. He missed pumpkin juice and the way the rich foods would sit in his stomach at the end of the day, warming him from head to toe and making his eyelids heavy.

He missed the parties that the older Slytherins would throw, and how they occasionally got rowdy and out of hand. He missed the smell of girls, and their near constant presence around him. He was never want for a female’s touch. He missed the little things. He missed the place he felt most alive and most comfortable. In a sense, he missed his real home.

Sinking into the pillows on his large, elaborately carved, mahogany bed, Draco sighed. He ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing the platinum strands that had been stuck to his head in their semi-dry state. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of his down comforter envelope is weary body.

The next morning he woke early, the sun hadn’t yet made an appearance, and he opened the door of his balcony. The cool morning air licked his skin, beckoning him outside. He pulled on a robe, fondled in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes, and, placing one delicately between his lips, lit it with the tip of his wand. Normally this would be illegal; The Ministry would be on his ass in a heartbeat. But he was a Malfoy. He had connections. He didn’t follow laws like normal people.

He inhaled the smoke, dragging it deep into his lungs, and then exhaled, blowing it above his head. The smell of tobacco lingered on his skin, in his hair, as the tendrils twirled around him. He finished it, watching the embers glow and turn to ash, eventually crumbling and falling off onto the ground in front of him. It struck him as almost ironic how much a human life could be so much like a flake of ash: burning bright and hot and then eventually crumbling and turning grey and cold. The human soul was fragile, Draco thought. Good thing he wasn’t so weak.

He got ready for and usually went about his day like this: First he styled his hair, making sure it looked effortlessly smooth. Then, he picked out his outfit for the day from his large walk in closet. Unsurprisingly, most of his clothes he owned were some shade of grey or black or green. He took care to wash his face, fix any imperfections that may have shown up overnight, and brush his teeth. He didn’t eat breakfast. He just couldn’t stomach (no pun intended) feeling so full so early in the morning. Instead, he drank a large cup of coffee or tea, whatever tickled his fancy at the time. He usually greeted his mother, who was at her customary end of the dining room table, with a swift kiss on the cheek. Draco would maybe take a walk, if the weather was nice. If not he would retreat to his own study and read or find something to occupy his time. Occasionally he would go out somewhere. Draco liked being alone around people that he didn’t know, and people that he knew didn’t care about him. He could be invisible. He could blend in, which was a luxury he didn’t often have the good fortune of experiencing.

Today, however, he didn’t have the time for himself. He was accompanying his mother to Diagon Alley to pick up his school supplies. She, being Narcissa Malfoy, could have easily had all of it delivered to the Manor, or even directly to Hogwarts if she so wished. But she didn’t often get the chance to go out unaccompanied by Lucius (currently rotting in a cell in Azkaban, much to both of their dismay), and Narcissa took the chance as often as she could (although not as if she had a chance at thee moment). Not that she didn’t enjoy being seen with her husband - she loved him fiercely and deeply – but she was a proud, independent woman. She wanted people to know that Lucius didn’t rule her. He was not an iron fist that squeezed the life out of her. He was simply her partner. Her other half, maybe, but she could and would survive without him. She was not a fragile doll, and as the current head of the Malfoy family, she had a duty to keep up their public image, to be seen in a good light, together as a family, as often as possible.

The two departed around eight thirty, Narcissa apparating them directly into Diagon Alley. They got Draco’s books, pausing to browse in Flourish and Blotts (Draco picked up a few extra books to treat his eventual, crushing boredom), his potions ingredients, and all of the basic necessities he would need for the year ahead of him. They were in Madame Malkin’s when his mother truly started to irritate him. As much as he loved her, her constant presence made it even harder than usual for him to slip away quietly, or walk unnoticed. She was too ostentatious.

“I’m not a child, in case you haven’t noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping _alone_.”

Madame Malkin tsked at him as she continued to alter the dress robes he was trying on. They were a handsome dark green color that flattered his tall figure nicely. She was pinning up the sleeves when she interjected into their conversation, “Now, dear, you mother’s quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it’s nothing to do with being a child-“

He scowled deeply, who did she think she was?

“Watch where you’re sticking that pin, will you?” He snapped loudly at her. He stepped off the platform to examine himself in the mirror. It was just as he was admiring the cut of the collar that he noticed the three of _them_ standing behind him. His steely grey eyes narrowed. “If you’re wondering what that smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in.”

Madame Malkin scurried out from behind a clothes rack, her wand in one hand and a tape measure in the other. Her ruddy face was scrunched into a frown. “I don’t think there’s any need for language like that!” She turned toward where Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing. “And I don’t want wands drawn in my shop, either!” Her eyes widened at Harry and Ron, who both had their wands out, and carefully trained on Draco.

“No, don’t, honestly it’s not worth it...” Hermione squeaked softly.

He smirked. She had a black eye. “Yeah, like you’d dare do magic outside of school. Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers.”

“That’s quite enough!” Madam Malkin said with an air of attempted authority. She looked desperately over her shoulder toward Narcissa for assistance. “Madam – Please – “

Narcissa strolled out from behind a clothes rack, her shoulders tall, her eyes narrow and glinting. “Put those away.” She said coldly, “And if you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do.”

Harry Potter boldly stepped forward. “Really?” He said. He was as tall as Narcissa, now. “Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?”

Madam Malkin clutched at her chest. “Really, you shouldn’t accuse - dangerous thing to say – wands away, please!”

When Harry didn’t lower his wand, Narcissa smiled unpleasantly at him. “I see that being Dumbledore’s favorite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won’t always be there to protect you.”

Harry’s eyes darted wildly around the shop, mocking Narcissa. “Wow… look at that… he’s not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!”

Draco stepped angrily toward Harry, ready to throttle him, but the unhemmed robe hindered him, and he tripped. Weasley guffawed loudly. Draco snarled. “Don’t you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!”

Narcissa placed her slender white fingers warningly on his shoulder. “It’s alright, Draco. I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius.”

Harry’s eyes were crackling with rage. He raised his wand higher.

Hermione jumped forward and attempted to force his arms down to his sides. If Draco wasn’t so angry, it might have been comical.

“Harry no!” She whispered. “Think… You mustn’t… You’ll be in such trouble!”

Madam Malkin shifted her feet, unsure of how to proceed. She eventually bent down towards Draco, who was still glaring at Harry, and fiddled with the sleeve of the robes. “I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just- “

“Ouch!” Draco yelped, swatting her hand away forcefully. “Watch where you’re putting your pins, woman! Mother – I don’t think I want these anymore – “ He pulled them quickly over his head and dropped them unceremoniously at Madam Malkin’s feet.

“You’re right, Draco.” She glared at Hermione, her nose turned up in disgust. “Now I know the kind of scum that shops here… We’ll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting’s.”

The two exited the shop, striding tall. Draco took extra care to hit Weasley as hard as he possibly could without causing even more of a scene. They continued down the street, finishing all of their shopping, when Narcissa suddenly spotted one of her friends. They stopped to chat for a few minutes before the other woman invited Narcissa to tea at her home.

“What, now?” Draco interrupted.

“Yes.” The woman smiled coldly at him.

He frowned. His mother turned to him. “Don’t get into anything that you can’t get out of. Return home once you’ve finished with your…” she paused, “errands.”

He nodded, watching them stride away and into the crowd. He turned, slipping down the street, past the obscenely brightly colored Weasley’s Wizard Whatevers and into Knockturn Alley. He opened the door to Borgin and Burkes, the bell tinkled softly. Borgin emerged from the shadows.

“Mr. Malfoy,” A sly grin unfolded itself across his features. “How may I help you, today?”

Malfoy ran his fingers along the display case in front of him. Multiple skulls stared up at him, their empty eye sockets mirroring a howling black abyss. He started.

“I have a cabinet,” He began. “A vanishing cabinet. It’s broken and I need it to be fixed. Would you know how to fix it?”

Borgin shrugged noncommittally. “Possibly. I would need to see it, though. Why don’t you bring it into the shop?”

“I can’t. It’s got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it.”

Borgin licked his lips nervously, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn’t guarantee anything.”

“No?” Draco questioned, raising his eyebrows and sneering at the greasy little man. “Perhaps this will make you more confident.”

He lifted his left sleeve up to reveal a very large scar on his forearm. Sharp crescent moon teeth marks glittered in the low light of the shop. Borgin stepped back, his face pale and frightened.

“Tell anyone,” Said Malfoy, “And there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He’s a family friend. He’ll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you’re giving the problem your full attention.”

“There will be no need for –“

“I’ll decide that. Well, I’d better be off. And don’t forget to keep _that_ one safe. I’ll need it.”

“Perhaps you’d like to take it now?”

“No, of course I wouldn’t, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don’t sell it.”

Borgin broke into a reluctant grin. “Of course not… sir.” And then he gave a deep, sweeping bow.

Draco’s smirk quickly degraded into a serious, piercing glare. “Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?”

“Naturally, Naturally.” Borgin assured him lightly.

Draco turned on his heel and excited the shop, a small smile playing across his sharp features.  
That had gone better than he had expected, especially since he was counting on the scar on his arm to strike fear right into Mr. Borgin’s heart.

Because, this wasn’t just a normal, ordinary scar. It was a very distinctive scar, one only a small group of people have, one that would bring shame upon his family if the secret ever got out.

You see, Draco Malfoy had become a werewolf.

_A/n: Like it? Hate it? Can’t wait to read more? Let me know! Make sure to Favorite, Follow, and Review. You can also follow me (and shoot me a message) on tumblr, my URL is slytherinsnitches!_


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: Hello, again. Here’s where I start to deviate from the book. I’ve been having some trouble deciding whether or not to keep most of the book scenes or not… but it is way too much work to copy all of that dialogue word for word. It’s much easier to just write from scratch. So, that’s what I’m going to do. I appreciate the immediate response from all of you (no reviews yet, but I’m sure they’re coming!), I hope to help you see the Draco I see. Don’t forget to Favorite, Follow, and Review!_

**_Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful. It was just red._ **

The Hogwarts express rumbled through the English countryside. Draco Malfoy sat in a booth in a car in the middle of the train with a few of the people that he could bear to stand. Blaise Zabini sat to his left, Pansy Parkinson sat across from him. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were missing this year; they had opted not to continue their education, instead joining the Dark Lord’s ranks early.

He stared out the window, his mind wandering far over the hills, over the moors, over the fields and farmland. He wasn’t really thinking about anything, but he wasn’t really thinking about nothing, either. Pansy prattled to Draco and Blaise about her shopping trip the week before where she had bought exactly six different pairs of Louboutins, four new sets of robes, and (according to her) some incredibly sexy black and emerald lace lingerie. He wasn’t paying attention, but Pansy didn’t seem to care. Blaise, however, was very interested in hearing more about this lingerie, and Pansy made him a sly, mock-serious (although, you could never really know with Pansy) promise to model it for him in _private_.  

Pansy Parkinson – one of his best friends on earth, someone who he trusted immensely – was not a shallow girl; she simply enjoyed materialistic things. She was very intelligent, very hard working (when it suited her), and she had the uncanny ability to absolutely dismantle someone’s self-esteem and self-worth with a short string of carefully chosen words. She had been in love with Draco for a long time, since they were children really, but a while back she had come to the understanding that although she and he had chemistry (they fucked), he would never be able to see her as more than that. They had physical chemistry, emotional chemistry, even, but they would never be able to make a relationship work. The sex was good, though. They had a standing agreement that if they weren’t in a relationship, either of them was fair game. That resulted in some serious after curfew-inside a broom closet-on a table in the great hall-potions classroom-Slytherin common room shenanigans. But at the moment Pansy seemed to have her eye on Blaise.

Blaise was Draco’s other best friend. He was much like Draco, if not a little more reckless. While Draco tended to be quiet and reserved around people he didn’t know well and wasn’t entirely comfortable with, Blaise almost always welcomed you with open arms. He was funny, he was good looking, and he was very rich. His mother, an Italian heiress, boasted the fact that they owned at least one house on every continent, excluding Antarctica. Truthfully, in Europe, at least, they probably had at least one house in every country. Blaise was s fantastic secret keeper, one of his better qualities. Once you told him a secret, it was like writing it down on paper and throwing it into a fire. He would never tell. Blaise seemed to like Pansy, as well. They were friends, obviously, but Draco knew him well enough that he could tell when he was generally interested in someone. Pansy needn’t worry. She had him wrapped around her long, pale fingers.

They rode on the train throughout the day and into the afternoon. Afternoon turned into evening as they pulled into Hogsmeade Station. He was the first out of his seat, his friends following closely behind, chatting amiably about something he didn’t quite catch. He was busy mulling over the dull hungry ache in his stomach when he ran smack into a very solid figure blocking the door of the carriage.

“Oof.” It said, spinning around to look at him.

He grabbed the person by their shoulders in an attempt to regain his nearly lost balance, when he saw who he was grabbing. Balance be damned. He stumbled into the wall, sending her toppling backwards onto the floor. Blaise and Pansy stopped behind them, Pansy giggling at Draco, whilst Blaise extended a hand to help him up.

“Alright, mate?” He said, brushing a bit of dust off of Draco’s shoulder.

“Yeah, fine.” He rubbed his elbow. “But I think I’m going to have to burn this shirt. Have I got any of her filth on me?”

Blaise grinned, shaking his head no.

The girl on the floor had gathered herself, and was carefully putting the contents of her spilled bag back where they belonged. Pansy nudged one of the fallen books down the corridor.

“Well,” She said expectantly, “Go get it, then.”

Hermione Granger frowned, her formerly bushy hair tied back and out of her face. If it had been down, Draco mused, it might have been crackling with electricity. He vaguely wondered what would happen if you rubbed a pillow on her head.

Hermione frowned, sighed, and picked up the book. “Very mature.”

Pansy smirked, pushing past her and grabbing Blaise’s hand, pulling him along. Draco meant to follow, when he realized that he had been holding a quill that was not his. He handed it back to Hermione without looking at her, and stepped off the train.

He heard her mutter “Thanks.” Quietly behind him. Must have been a force of habit. Damned Gryffindors.

The Great Hall was luminous and warm and packed to the brim with returning students. It didn’t seem that impending war had dampened the spirits or scared many of the parents into not allowing their children to return. They probably thought that Hogwarts was the safest place for their precious babies. What fools. Not even Hogwarts, with its nearly impregnable walls, was safe from what was coming. No place was safe. No one was safe.

Everyone sat on their benches after a few minutes of talk. The chatter settled into a low roar, but dropped off into whispers as soon as McGonagall strode through the massive wooden doors, a trail of small, timid looking first years behind her. She led them up to where the head table was. A stool awaited them, the old, tattered sorting hat sitting on top of it. The students stepped up, one by one, and were sorted into their respective houses. A good many were sorted into Slytherin, and most didn’t look nearly as stupid as their fellow classmates.

Dumbledore gave a short speech, Draco notices that he kept one of his hands carefully tucked inside his robe, and then the food appeared on the long tables. Immediately everyone began to load their plates with food. There were roast chickens, turkey legs, and platters of roast beef. There were bowls filled with mashed potatoes, assorted vegetables, and macaroni and cheese. Rolls were stacked unnaturally high and in precarious positions. Tureens of gravy sat next to self-stirring cauldrons of savory soups. Draco picked at his food, eating a little, talking a little, but mostly listening to the conversations around him.

Blaise was on his fourth helping of roast beef and Pansy was buttering a roll when he finally spoke.

“An awful lot of Mudbloods this year.”

Pansy decided to humor him. “And how can you tell, Draco?”

“Why, Pans. With a nose as big as yours you should be able to smell them from all the way over here, too!”

She grinned, throwing a bit of roll at him. He laughed, truly, and dug into a pile of mashed potatoes.

They ate together for a while, laughing and talking, Draco finally opening up to his friends again. After a while the dinner dishes disappeared and desserts took their place. Puffed sugar pastries sat in piles next to mounds of ice cream. Decorated cakes and tarts and pies sat on serving dishes waiting for students to shovel them down. Draco, growing tired at this point decided to take the edge off a little and charm his cup of pumpkin juice into a cup of wine. He liked greedy dry wine, preferably red. Draco was not an alcoholic by any means, but he did enjoy drinking. If he didn’t have wine, he liked firewhiskey or vodka.

After his fourth cup of wine he was feeling sufficiently warmed and happy. He walked down to the common room with his friends, swaying his hips confidently.

“What’s got you so peppy?” Pansy asked as they stepped over the threshold into the dungeon room.

He smirked, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. His cheeks were pink, his hair was ruffled, and his white dress shirt was untucked from his pants. “Peppy? No... just happy to be back here.”

Blaise and Pansy exchanged a look. “Um… back _here_?” Blaise questioned.

Draco frowned. “Home hasn’t been the most welcoming place lately.”

“Ah.” Blaise clapped him on the shoulder. “I do get that one.”

Pansy grabbed both of their hands, steering them toward the black leather couches next to the roaring fire. “Enough of that, it’s our first night back. And even though this place is a hell hole,” She nodded toward Draco, “We could be somewhere worse.”

“True that.” Blaise pulled out a flask, taking a swig.

Pansy held out her hand, motioning for him to share. She took a big drink. Blaise whistled, and she swatted his arm. Draco grabbed the flask out of her hand, drinking deeply. It was firewhiskey.

“Well,” He said, wiping the excess drink from the corners of his mouth, “I guess I’m getting hammered tonight.”

Pansy laughed, drinking again. “Let’s get wasted.”

Blaise raised the flask high before taking another sip. “To getting fucked up with the only people you can stand.”

“Amen.” Draco replied, leaning back in his chair.

He’d forgotten how dark Hogwarts was at night. He’d forgotten that the stone walls seemed to absorb any light like a sponge, holding it captive until the sun rose again. The only visible light came from the tip of his wand, and the moon when it shone through the windows.

The moon. It was in its third quarter, edging closer and closer to being full. He dreaded it. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to do on the full moon, or how he would keep himself – and everyone else – safe. But he couldn’t worry about that now.

Draco wandered down the corridors of the fourth floor. He had left the common room after Blaise and Pansy had run up the stairs to her dorm, she was fulfilling her promise to model her new lingerie for him. He’s stumbled his way out of the dungeons, eventually getting up some stairs (with minor difficulties) and to the fourth floor. He wasn’t really sure what brought him there, until he saw the glow of wandlight coming from inside the library. He tentatively pushed open the door and walked in, banging his knee on a table in the process. He followed the light, eventually coming to a rarely used corner of the library, one that happened to be _his_ favorite place to hide.

Sitting there, her head buried deep in a book, was Hermione Granger. What she was reading, he couldn’t see, partly because it was all blurry, and partly because it was too dark.

“You do know it’s two AM.” He stated softly, leaning against one of the bookshelves.

Hermione jumped, the blood draining from her face. She looked up, startled. “For fucks sake, Malfoy. What the hell are you doing here?”

“Was out, saw your wand, thought I’d see who was in here.”

“It’s two AM?”

“I already said that.”

“No, I mean, why are you out at 2 AM?”

“None of your business.”

She sighed, closed the book and stood up to gather her things. She began to move past him when he clumsily flung his arm out, blocking her path.

She huffed. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know.” He said, his words slurring. He oved forwards so she had to move back. She was pinned between the wall and him, she had nowhere to go.

His eyes sparkled as he put his hands on either side of her head. Alarm bells should have been going off somewhere in his brain telling him to back away, that she was disgusting, that even being this close to her could taint his blood… but they weren’t. Maybe because he felt his blood was already tainted, maybe he didn’t care, or maybe he was too drunk to even notice.

He moved his face closer to hers and smiled. She stood there stunned, her large brown eyes wide. There was a tendril of hair that hung in front of her eyes.

“May I?” He asked.

She nodded, biting her lip. He tucked the piece of hair behind her ear.

“What are you doing?” She whispered

“I don’t know.” He repeated again, he could feel her breath on his face. He could smell her hair. She smelled sweet, like lavender and rain.  He shifted his body closer to hers. He could feel the heat of her on his skin. Draco leaned down, the moment and her smell intoxicating, and he ghosted his lips over hers.

She pulled back, stunned. Her face twisted, confused.

“You’re drunk.” She could smell the firewhiskey on his breath.

“Yes.”

She looked unsure for a mment, torn between running or staying and seeing where this would go. Hermione’s curiosity got the best of her and then she leaned up on her tip toes to kiss him. Their mouths melded together, soft lips moving in time with each other, moving to the beat of their erratically fluttering hearts. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, kissing her deeply, now. He pressed flush against her, he could feel the warmth of his blood pooling between his thighs. He could feel himself becoming aroused. Apparently she could feel it too, because she broke away, her breathing hard. And then she did a very unexpected thing. She nipped him on the neck.

He growled softly, pushing her back against the wall. He could feel the soft mounds of her breasts against his chest. He could feel the curves of her torso as he rand his hand down her back and to her bottom. He pulled her hips closer to meet his, sure she could feel his erection now. She rocked against him, aroused too. He carefully lifted the hem of her skirt, running his fingers slowly up her thigh. Hermione’s breathing hitched as she felt where he was going. He touched her, rubbing her on her clitoris through her panties. She gasped at the sensation, and moaned softly. Suddenly, she jerked away.

“No.” She whispered softly.

He pulled his hand away, kissing her once more, softly. She searched for his lips, but he wasn’t there anymore. When her eyes opened he was staring at her. His eyes were steely, they flashed dangerously.

“If you say anything to anyone.”

“I won’t, I won’t” She said quickly, flushing. She picked up her fallen and forgotten bag. She started to walk away, but stopped and turned back. Hermione opened her mouth as if she had something to say, but changed her mind, turned, and walked out of the library.

Draco exhaled heavily. His exhaustion began to take over, combined with his inebriation, he could barely stand. He sat back down in the same spot Hermione had been very early before. Draco fumbled in his pocket for a pack of cigarettes and lit up. His eyelids dropped, his breathing became more even and heavier. He fell asleep with his still burning cigarette perched carefully on top of a small bit of plastic. It’s really amazing that he didn’t burn down the whole library.

_A/n: Can’t wait to tell you all what happens next. Don’t forget to Follow, Favorite, and Review! Hint: the more reviews I get, the more inclined I am to post a new chapter. Also, you can follow me on my tumblr: URL is slytherinsnitches. Thank you!_

 


	3. Chapter 3

_A/n: Holy crap, guys. There are so many of you that have been reading this story! I appreciate this so much. Just so you know, if you post a suggestion or an idea or something I may include it. I have this habit of not planning stories, so I don’t even know where this is going. I hope you enjoy this chapter! Don’t forget to Follow, Favorite, and Review!_

**_I never really liked my name much until I found out what it tastes like when you sigh it into my mouth_ **

It was so fucking bright. What the fuck was that godforsaken light that dared to shine so fucking brightly in his eyes on a morning like this? Draco groaned. His cheek was stuck to a table in the back corner of the library, a pool of drool next to where his mouth had been. He refused to open his eyes; it was like he was on the surface of the fucking sun. He sat up, shielding his face from the hell-fire that must have been burning right next to him, and immediately felt overwhelmed by a crippling wave of nausea. He laid his head back down. His neck was stiff and sore from being in the same damn position for eight or more hours. He didn’t even know what time it was.

Draco finally mustered the courage to open his eyes and stand up. Doing so was a mistake, though, as he immediately almost toppled right into a bookshelf. He moved quietly out of the library, curious to why the fuck he was in the library in the first place, as the last thing he remembered was drinking with Pansy and Blaise in the Slytherin common room the night before. Apparently, and obviously, he had gotten ridiculously wasted – enough so that he didn’t remember anything from the previous night and had a massive hangover. Of course it was just his luck, too, that the sun seemed to be shining like it was literally 2 feet away from him.

He grimaced, walking into the Great Hall. He probably looked like shit, but he felt even shittier, so what did it matter how he looked. Sitting down in his usual spot, Draco dragged the greasiest food he could manage to reach and started piling it on his plate. He needed to soak up any remaining alcohol in his system and give his stomach something to hold on to for dear life.

Pansy and Blaise both came in at the same time a few minutes later. They saw Draco and sat down, both looking like they were in the same boat he was.

“Well, well.” Pansy started. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“Har har.” Draco deadpanned, sipping a mug of hot tea carefully so as not to burn his tongue or his lips.

“So where did you get to last night?” Blaise asked, pouring himself a mug of coffee.

“Apparently the library, for some reason.”

“Yeah, some reason.” Pansy nodded toward him while she broke a piece of bacon in half and shoved part of it in her mouth. “Looks like you got some last night.” She winked. “Who with?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ohhh, I see it, I see it.” Blaise said, spreading jam on a piece of toast and smirking.

“See what? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, honey.” Pansy transfigured one of the goblets from the empty seat next to her into a mirror and handed it to Draco.

He looked at his face, noting the heavy bags under his eyes and the grey tinge that seemed to never go away, and then he saw what they had been laughing at. On the side of his neck there was a bruise that looked like a hickey. He touched it carefully.

“So, who gave that to you?”

Draco was very confused. “I have no idea. I really don’t.”

“Well it wasn’t there yesterday.” Pansy poured salt on her eggs.

“No, it most certainly wasn’t.” He frowned.

A few minutes later Snape came by handing out class schedules. He leaned down next to Draco.

“Mr. Malfoy, please come see me after your last class today.”

Draco nodded, shoving a bit of toast into his mouth.

“Ooooh is someone in trouble?” Pansy smirked.

Draco made a face at her. “If I go down, I’m taking you all down with me.”

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Blaise mused, dumping a load of sugar into his mug.

After lunch Draco had potions in the dungeon with the Gryffindors. It’s easy to say that it was basically hell on earth. Being anywhere near the “golden trio” gave him a headache. He kept his head down, focusing on the potion they were brewing that day. It wasn’t overly complicated, just something to get them warmed up and see what they could do. Harry Potter seemed to be having too easy of a time brewing his, Draco could see when he glanced over for a minute. He caught sight of Hermione Granger and he felt his heart speed up. His face flushed a little bit and his heart beat a little faster. He attributed this to his hatred for the disgusting girl, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind.

At the end of class professor Slughorn tested everyone’s potions. He gave Draco a passing grade, giving him a slight smile. The mudblood got an above average mark, earning a grin and a “well done” from the fat old man. The most surprising thing was the Potter hadn’t managed to melt his cauldron or melt a hole in the floor. In fact,   Slughorn gave him the highest mark of the day, praising him for at least five minutes. Draco had had enough. He rolled his eyes as far back into his skull as was humanly possible and was relieved when the bell sounded for class to be let out.

Potions was his last class of the day, so he trudged through the dungeons to Snape’s office. He knocked, and Snape bade him enter.

The dungeon office was surprisingly warm and would have been almost cheery, if it hadn’t been for all of the nasty, slimy, writhing things in jars on shelves that lined the walls. Snape sat at his desk, bent over a roll of parchment. He continued to scrawl on it for a minute, then put the quill down and looked at Draco.

“I have spoken with the Dark Lord.”

Draco shifted uncomfortably. “And?”

“You are not allowed Wolfsbane. At least for a few months, until you can prove that you are committed to working for him.”

“Have I not already proved myself? I am not my father.”

“No, you are not. You’re weaker than him.”

Draco frowned. “Weak how?”

“The Dark Lord is not sure that you can be trusted to do everything he asks you to. You’re too smart, too much like him. You’re too easily swayed. The Dark Lord does not believe that you are loyal to him. He believes that given any small push, you may abandon the cause.”

“And do what? Fight for mudbloods? Squibs? They disgust me.”

“He is not so sure.”

“Well, I am.”

“That means nothing in the opinion of the Dark Lord.”

“For god’s sake.” Draco slammed his fist down on the table. “Does he not know how painful this is? How much this puts everyone and me in danger?”

“Of course he does. You are being punished. Your wellbeing means nothing to him, really. You are a pawn. He can find other pawns; you are simply the most… convenient.”

“Then why should I even try? If I am so easily replaced?”

“Because if you don’t, he will kill you. And it is much better to be a living wolf than a dead one.”

He sat on the common room couch, twirling a quill between his fingers and staring into the fire. Draco was very confused and very frustrated. How had he gotten a hickey? From whom had he gotten a hickey? And why couldn’t he fucking remember? He also had other thoughts on his mind. What was he going to do when he transformed? It was less than a week away and he still had no ideas. He needed to keep himself safe, because other students be damned, if he went full werewolf in Hogwarts, he’d be fucked. He decided to go for a walk.

He wandered up every floor, taking hours and hours until it finally got dark outside. He had missed dinner, and his stomach was growling. He was on the seventh floor when he decided to go to the room of requirement to check on his… _project_. He passed by the room three times, just like he had been instructed to do, thinking hard on what he needed, but he kept getting distracted. Finally, the door appeared. He pushed it open, but the room was not how he expected it to be. Instead of a massive labyrinth of stacked boxes, old furniture, and piles upon piles of things that nobody wanted anymore, it was a very cozy study, lined with shelves and multiple fireplaces. There was a large bed in one corner, a small bathroom in another, and in the very back left corner, what looked to be a cell.

Draco walked in further, examining the books on the shelf closest to him, there was a roaring fire burning in one of the stone fireplaces, a plush couch in front of it. The books had strange titles, some of them in Latin, but they all seemed to share the same topic – werewolves. He plucked one off the shelf and flipped it open.

_The werewolf is one of the most dangerous creatures known to man. Their history began in Ancient Egypt over four thousand years ago. The exact history of the werewolf is uncertain, but it is said that an ancient wizard, a priest of the Egyptian gods, put a curse on one of his brothers for betraying him and his gods. The curse – turning into a massive wolf one night of the year ever full moon – would spread to all of his children and his children’s children, to curse the entirety of his line forever. Not only would this curse fall on his line, but anyone who had been bitten whilst he was in his wolf form. The obvious solution would have been to stop the lineage right there (or not bite anybody, but as werewolves cannot control themselves while they are in their wolf form, and are therefore subject to their animal instincts, this is virtually impossible.), but unbeknownst to the first wolf, he was destined to imprint on a female to procreate. Imprinting caused the wolf to fall in love with his soul mate. This love was infallible, the true meaning of soul mate. The two would be unable to separate once they had shared an intimate and personal moment, such as kissing or any sort of sexual touching. Another obvious solution would be to refrain from physical contact with any female; however, the wizard had created a failsafe for this, too. The wolf would emit pheromones that were only potent to his soul mate. Any other female would just be able to easily ignore the impulse, but the soul mate would be unable to ignore it. It would be a compulsion so strong that she would have no choice. The only known “cure” (it isn’t a cure, really, it is actually a pheromone blocker to prevent the male from emitting them) is the Wolfsbane potion._

Draco’s heart skipped a beat as he read the page. He had no idea where or who he had been with the night before. And Snape had already denied him a Wolfsbane potion. His life was becoming increasingly more complicated, and he didn’t know what to do. He could feel a panic attack coming. He could feel it welling up in the walls of his soul, threatening to spill over. He could feel it bubbling and frothing, tears threatening to escape from his eyes. He tore the page out of the book, stuffing it into his pocket, and sat on the floor.

Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to imagine a calming place, trying to imagine calming smells and soothing thoughts. An overwhelming smell of lavender and rain assaulted his nose, grounding him. He ran a hand through his hair, and pulled a blanket off of the leather couch that was sitting in front of the fireplace, wrapping it around him. He fell asleep that way, his head pounding from his hangover, his heart pounding from his panic.

Sometime around one AM or so, he woke up. The moon was shining through one of the large windows. He sighed, standing up and stretching, cracking all of the joints in his back. Draco wandered to the other side of the room, where the strange cell sat. He touched the bars, they seemed to be made of an ordinary metal, but they felt stronger somehow. Sturdier. He pulled out his wand, performing a basic identifying spell on them, to find out that they were in fact made out of iron. He then cast another spell to see if there were any sort of magical properties about them. There were. The bars were layered with multiple wards. However, they weren’t designed to keep people out, but designed to keep something else _in_. He had been suspicious at this point, sure that the room had somehow sensed his problem and had come up for a solution to it, but now he was sure. This was what he needed. This was a place that he could transform.

A wave of relief washed over him as he walked back down to the dungeons. On his way, he happened to pass by the library, only to see a light coming from inside. Curious, he pushed open the door and followed the source back to a table that was nestled between a few shelves and a wall, so it was almost hidden. He vaguely remembered that this was usually his favorite spot to be. Much to his disgust, however, Draco found _his_ space to be occupied by none other than Hermione Granger.

She looked up as she heard him approach.

“You, again.” She said, closing her book, blushing.

“What do you mean me again?” He hissed, annoyed.

“You don’t… remember?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Last night you came here, I was here…” she trailed off. “You really don’t remember?”

He inhaled sharply, angry now, and then he caught her scent. Lavender and raindrops. He froze. “Oh _fuck_ no.”

She sighed. Shifting some papers around.

“You?” He hissed quietly, repulsed.

“Unfortunately.” She frowned. “I thought it was just because you were drunk.”

“Well of course, although I thought even drunk me had better sense than that. Disgusting.” He felt like he was going to throw up. “What happened? Did I kiss you?” He ground his teeth together, trying to keep the rising bile in his throat from reaching his mouth.

“You did a lot more than that, Malfoy.”

He retched. “Gods. I can’t believe I would ever think of putting myself near anything as _vile_ and revolting as you.”

“Well,” she said, gathering her things, “That certainly isn’t how you felt last night.”

_A/n: What did you think? Like it? Hate it? Review it! Don’t forget to Favorite and Follow, too! If you’d like to follow my tumblr the URL is slytherinsnitches. Thank you for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/n: You guys are great. I appreciate the enthusiasm and all of the follows/favorites/reviews so far. Keep it going!_

**_I think he’s caught between who he is and who he wants to be._ **

Draco rubbed his eyes, tiredly, pushing himself out of bed and into a pair of shoes. He grabbed his shower bag, shoved a towel and a change of clothes into it, and padded out of the dungeons and up the grand staircase to the Prefect’s bathroom on the seventh floor. He pushed the door open and threw his things on a bench, undressing carefully and hanging his pajamas on a hook.

He stepped into the shower and turned it on, basking in the warming embrace of the water. He ran his fingers through his hair, before shampooing and conditioning it carefully. Draco rubbed his favorite soap up and down his body, his fingers causing tingles and chills to move down his spine. He was feeling slightly aroused, his body reacting, blood pooling in his groin.

Draco began to stroke himself, one hand pressed against the wall. He found himself remembering the scent that had calmed him before, lavender and raindrops, now arousing him even more. He remembered a set of lips on his, fiery, passionate; a pair of hips grinding against him; his fingers running against the inside of a woman’s thighs and on her pussy, feeling the wetness begin to seep through the fabric of her panties… He was close to cumming when he heard a small gasp behind him. He turned, startled, only to see the person he least wanted to see at the moment.

Hermione Granger stood shocked, her shower things in her arms, her mouth forming a small o. Draco smirked, putting one hand on his hip and leaning casually against the shower wall.

“What’s the matter, Granger? Never seen a real man before?”

She turned around quickly, shuffling to the other side of the bathroom. Draco snorted, turning back to finish himself in the shower. He glanced behind him; she had lain her things down on the bench on the opposite side of the room and was beginning to undress. She turned on the shower, first, though, so he couldn’t see anything. There was too much steam.

He began to stroke himself again, hardening again, and he returned to his fantasy. He was kissing a girl roughly, their tongues dancing in and out of each other’s mouths, their bodies pressed flush together. In his mind he pulled back, seeing her face. It was Hermione.

“Oh for fucks sake.” He growled, knocking a few bottles off of the wall. “OW.” He yelped. One of them had been glass, and it shattered when it touched the floor. A few pieces had bounced up and sliced him in various places.

And, hearing his yell, and being the caring worrywart she was, Hermione Granger came hurrying across the bathroom to see if he was okay. And that was how she saw him, with a boner and covered in scratches, bleeding all over everything.

“Oh my god.” She whispered as she pulled the shower curtain back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking fabulous, Granger.” And then he added “You always have to ruin everything, don’t you.” But that was more for him.

She heard it, however, and looked confused. “How could I have done anything? I was on the other side of the room?”

“What? Are you going to help me or not?” Draco was very aware of his nakedness. He wasn’t uncomfortable at the fact that she was seeing him naked, he had nothing to hide, but she was probably uncomfortable, not that he cared. She had taken just enough time to pull a towel around her before she had come to help him.

She huffed, grabbing her wand. “Don’t move.”

She muttered a spell to clear all of the glass out of the way, and he stepped out of the shower and sat on the bench. She came up beside him and shifted uncomfortably.

“Are you going to put on a towel?”

“No.”

“Well, fine then.” She threw a bunched up towel across his waist. “But you probably should, unless you want to walk around the school naked.”

“No hospital wing, just help me here.”

She huffed again. “Listen, I don’t know many healing spells. You’d be better off in the hospital wi-“

“I said no.” 

He was still bleeding, the drops mixing with the water on the floor and running between the cracks in the tiles and down into the drain. It would have been almost pretty (in a morbid sort of way) if it didn’t hurt so much. She kneeled down beside him, he could see down the front of her towel, it was getting kind of loose.

She pointed her wand at his leg, muttered a few words, and then began to carefully pull small bits of glass out.

“Okay,” She said as she placed the glass inside a towel to throw away, “It shouldn’t bleed anymore and I’ve disinfected it. Once I’m done, I’ll seal these and you should be okay.”

“Okay.” He replied, watching her work. He tried to ignore the pain in his leg by willing her towel to fall down. He stared at it as if trying to channel a mental telepathy. Not that he wanted to see her naked (or did he?), but he wanted her to be embarrassed, which he briefly thought was an almost shitty thing to think, since she was helping him. He smiled. She stood up suddenly and had a triumphant look on her face.

“Alright, I think you’re okay.”

“Great.” He pushed the towel off of his lap, and just as he did so, hers finally fell down.

He grinned, getting a full view of naked Hermione Granger. He was pleasantly surprised, actually, not that he had been expecting anything, but she was a mudblood. Her skin was slightly tan from the summer months, and she was very curvy. Her breasts were medium sized, and she had very pink nipples. He fought the urge to reach out and stroke them. He glanced down quickly, catching a glimpse of what she had between her legs. She didn’t shave. He felt his cock twitch.

She gasped, picking it up off the floor and covering herself again.

“Fuck.” She said.

“Well, if you insist.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Disgusting.”

“What?” He said, standing up, making sure she got a good look at him again. “I’ll have you know that I am very good in bed.”

He was teasing her, he knew. Not that he particularly like Hermione Granger, he hated her (or he wanted to, he was very confused at the moment), but she was cheap and easy entertainment. After years of observing her and her friends’ habits, he knew what made her tick. He knew how to piss her off and annoy her and he was very good at it.

She began walking to the other side of the room again, pulling off her towel and hanging it on a hook next to her stall. He’d already seen her, anyways, and she didn’t have any reason to be ashamed; She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Plus, teasing him, though wrong, made her feel powerful in ways she hadn’t felt before. Hermione briefly wondered if Harry and Ron’s bad influences were starting to rub off on her.

Later that day Draco Malfoy stood outside in the cool fall air under a large tree, staring out into the lake. It was a full moon tomorrow, and he now had a plan. After further investigation of the cage in the room of requirement Draco figured out that once he locked himself in the cage for the night of the full moon he could stay safely to transform overnight. The bars would unlock and at dawn, as soon has he had transformed back. He wondered how many people before him had had to use the same room he was going to, how many people had been in the same position he was.

He could barely focus on his classes, anxious to get to dinner so he could tell Blaise about what had happened earlier in the morning.

“So you were just naked?” Blaise grinned, pouring gravy on his mashed potatoes.

“Yeah, and she didn’t seem as bothered by it as I hoped, honestly.”

“What, did you want her to run screaming?” Pansy interjected, looking up from the school book she was reading.

“Something like that, I mean, it would have been hilarious.”

“Probably too distracted by your fabulous and sexy figure, mate.”

“That’s not gay at all, Blaise.”

“It really isn’t, I’m just making an observation.”

“What, that I’m fucking gorgeous?”

“Precisely.”  Blaise grinned.

Draco laughed. He felt good when he was with his friends. He felt happy, like when you put a new piece of wood into a fire and it burns brighter. But when he was away from them, he started to fade; his happiness became dull cooling embers. They helped him forget about his problems- they helped him forget about his father and the looming threat of the Dark Lord, the task he had been assigned. They knew the weight he had on his shoulders and they did everything that they could to distract him from it so he could live his life in semi-sanity. But he was losing it day by day. A little less happy, a little more grey.

They finished dinner together and walked down to the common room. He caught sight of Hermione Granger in the crowd, his broad smile dutifully turning into a frown. The night wore on as he and his friends sat around the fire finishing homework. Finally, they all decided to go to bed. Draco and Blaise climbed the stairs to the double room that they shared (sixth and seventh years were allowed special privileges like that) and they both changed and climbed into bed. Draco lay awake for a while, though, dreading what was before him. He remembered when he had been bitten, and the first time he had transformed as well as anything.

_It was summer. It was warm, the air was very humid, and there were bugs everywhere. Draco and his family were arranged at the dining room table of Malfoy Manor, other Death Eaters situated around them. His father, Lucius, was covered in cuts and bruises. A beating was his preliminary punishment, but it was nothing to what was about to come._

_The Dark Lord sat at the very head of the table, his snake, Nagini, wound around his chair, her head laying lazily on his lap. The room was silent._

_“Lucius,” The Dark Lord began, “You have failed us.”_

_Lucius looked down, ashamed, but didn’t drop his posture. He did not want to appear weak._

_“And for that failure you will be punished. You will serve as a lesson to the people in this room that I do not condone incompetence. You will allow yourself to be captured, but you will not turn yourself in, and you will got to Azkaban prison for an extended period of time. If your family has not redeemed themselves within a… certain period of time… well, we will see what happens then.”_

_Lucius and Narcissa looked visibly relieved that that was all he planned to do. They should not have been so foolish, however, because the Dark Lord chuckled malevolently._

_“Do you think that is it? A few measly months in Azkaban for putting our entire cause into peril? No, Lucius, your entire punishment is much more severe.” He motioned for the werewolf standing guard to his left to come closer. “Fenrir.”_

_Fenrir Greyback moved towards the Malfoys, and stopped directly behind Draco._

_“Stand.” He said, pulling back roughly on his chair._

_Draco, confused, stood like he was told. As much as he did not want to listen, he also did not want to die._

_“Please place your wand on the table, Draco.” The Dark lord stroked the head of his snake._

_Greyback grabbed his arm roughly and steered him out of the room._

_“Where are we going?” He asked, hoping not to sound scared._

_Greyback didn’t answer, but instead led him down the hallway and into the cellar of the manor._

_“What are you doing?” Draco was terrified, now._

_“Roll up your sleeve.”_

_He did. Greyback pulled out his wand and cast a binding spell on him. Draco couldn’t move or speak, all he could do was watch silently as Greyback leaned towards him and bit his forearm roughly._

_His sharp teeth sliced easily through his skin, fat, and muscle, and Draco could feel tears welling up inside his eyes. He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. He wanted to run, to fight, but his feet were glued to the ground. Greyback stepped back, a horrific and gory grin on his face. He undid the binding spell and left Draco in the cellar._

_Draco fell to the ground, curled in a fetal position. This was his punishment; this was his curse for his father’s actions. This would change his entire life. He clutched his arm, it was still bleeding, and it had soaked through his robes. Eventually, due to blood loss, Draco passed out._

_It was only a few weeks later when he had transformed for the first time. There weren’t many physical changes to a werewolf while he was in his human form, but Draco was under so much stress that his hair began to fall out. He started eating less and he lost weight. His skin went from ivory to ash-tinged._

_When night began to fall, his mother led him down into the cellar, and locked the iron barred door. She placed wards all around the room to keep him in and to keep other out, and left him, reluctantly, until morning. The pain of having her husband in prison and her son a monster was almost too much for her. The Drak Lord meant for her to break – to shatter into a thousand fragile pieces – but Narcissa would not let that happen. She was too proud, too stubborn. She was wounded, yes. Deeply. But she would not give anyone the satisfaction. She was loyal enough not to get herself killed, and that was it._

_The moon rose high in the sky, it’s light pouring through one of the small windows inside the cave-like underbelly of the Malfoy Manor. Draco had carefully taken his clothes off, so as not to ruin them, because he still believed that he could retain some of his dignity. He felt tingles shoot all throughout his body, not unpleasant, but not pleasant either, and then he began to feel pain. He could feel his body changing, morphing, into an animalistic shape. His bones cracked, his limbs lengthened, and his face contorted into that of a wolf. He tried to call out but the only sound that he made was a howl, like that of a real wolf._

_His transformation lasted only a few minutes, but it was the most painful thing he had ever experienced in his life. It was not like turning into an animagus, which was painless, but like having your entire body pulled apart bit by bit and reconstructed incorrectly without any care in the world whether you are awake or not._

_He didn’t know himself in this shape. He was no longer Draco Malfoy, he didn’t know who that person was. His only instinct was to kill, to hunt, to maim, but even has he skulked along the perimeter of the room he was in he could not find a way out. He went about this for hours, sniffing and scratching at the walls, ramming into them, trying his hardest to leave. But he couldn’t._

_Eventually he became bored, laying down on the floor. But he could not sleep. So he sat there waiting until the sun came up. And when it did, he was forced into a world of pain all over again. His bones snapped in half once more, crackling and bending and squishing back to their original place. His limbs shortened, the flesh retracting into itself. He whimpered, trying his best not to howl in pain, but he couldn’t help it. He screamed._

_His mother found him the next morning, in the corner of the dungeon, naked and exhausted, covered in bruises. She pitied him, her pain at seeing her only son vulnerable and hurt welled up inside of her. She handed him his wand and his clothes and left once more, allowing him privacy._

The transformation wasn’t as painful as it had been the first time. He had gotten used to it, had built up a tolerance. But he still dreaded what was coming, he still howled and whimpered when his body betrayed him.

Draco Malfoy was meant to be a lesson for his father. He was meant to serve as a possible weapon against his enemies. But what the Dark Lord didn’t know, or what he chose to ignore was that this change had strengthened Draco’s resolve. It had not changed him, not yet, not completely, but it was beginning to.

_a/n: That you all again for reading this story, I hope you all liked it. Sorry this update took so long, I was having a bout of writer’s block. It may happen from time to time but I will try to update as frequently as I can because I actually want to write this story and see where it goes. Don’t forget to Favorite, Follow, and Review! You can follow me on my tumblr at the URL slytherinsnitches, and go ahead and shoot me a message if there is anything pressing that you feel the need to tell me, or any ideas you may have. I DO take suggestions on plot ideas or things I should add in, anything you might want to see (not a guarantee, but sometimes those thing help me to focus!), so definitely tell me, anon or not. Thank you so much, once again, and have a lovely day!_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/n: You guys are amazing, truly. Thank you for your support so far._

**_  
Scars show us where we have been, they do not dictate where we are going._ **

Hermione Granger was very confused. Kissing someone who is supposed to be your enemy can do that to you. That night in the library, Hermione had absolutely no idea what was going on- what she was getting herself into. She still had no idea how it happened, one minute she was having a somewhat civil conversation with Malfoy, the next minute he was all over her and she was letting it happen.

Just the other day she had seen him naked, and she hadn’t hated it. She pretended that it made her uncomfortable, when in actuality it really didn’t. Not that she liked it, per se, but she just didn’t see the big deal in the situation, especially because she knew that he was trying to get a rise out of her and she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.

She sat at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall drinking a mug of tea. It was early – she needed to get some work done before her classes started – and there were only a few people scattered throughout the hard wooden benches. Cool light leaked through the tall windows, the sky a striking shade of sharp grey.

Ginny trudged in looking exhausted.

“Late night last night?” Hermione asked as her friend plopped down across from her.

“We’re starting tryouts, so Harry asked me to help him get everything ready. Took forever. You know how fucking dirty the broom closets and locker rooms are? Pitch was a mess, too. You’d think someone else would care about it but noooo it’s somehow up to the Captain – bullshit if you ask me.”

Hermione smiled. Ginny had grown into an incredible force of a woman over the years, one to be reckoned with. They both ate in silence for a while, Hermione focused on the textbook in front of her, when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Someone was looking at her. Staring, actually, and when she looked up and met those cold grey eyes she slammed the book shut so hard that Ginny jumped.

“I have to talk to you about something.”

“Hmm?” A little pumpkin juice dribbled down Ginny’s chin.

“Draco Malfoy.”

She frowned. “What about him?”

“He’s been… weird this year.”

“Since when have you been paying attention to the particular behavior of Draco Malfoy?”

“Since forever. It didn’t become interesting or worth noting until he kissed me, though.” She tried to make it sound offhand, but Ginny nearly choked on her juice.

Her face was almost purple from the coughing fit she was having when Harry and Ron sat down, both looking weary. Harry glanced at Ginny, concerned.

“Er.. you okay?”

Ginny was slowly turning back to her normal shade of white.

“Fine.” She growled, glaring at Hermione. “Did I hear you correctly or did I do all of that choking for nothing?”

“No, you heard me.”

“Outside. Now.” Ginny motioned for Hermione to follo her out of the Great Hall. On the other side of the room, Draco followed them with his piercing eyes. The Weasley girl’s fit hadn’t gone unnoticed.

In the entrance hall Ginny dragged Hermione to one of the corners.

“Now,” She said, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Hermione relayed her story of what happened in the Library. She purposefully left out the finer details, to spare her from at least some embarrassment.

“What, and you just let him kiss you?”

“It was honestly like I had no choice. It was like a spell was on me, I don’t know. He didn’t cast anything, though, unless he cast it wordlessly, but we haven’t learned that yet.”

“Could his father or aunt have taught him?”

“Possibly. I mean it’s certainly a thought. Harry is absolutely convinced he became a Death Eater over the summer. We saw him at Borgin and Burke’s before school started. Talking about repairing something.”

“I mean, Harry is probably right.”

“I don’t think so, though. He doesn’t seem like he’s become… worse. I mean, I feel like him kissing me proves it. Also, yesterday, when I saw him in the shower-“

“You saw him naked?!” Her jaw popped open.

“Oh, yeah. But he surprised me and then he accidentally shattered some glass so I helped him get fixed up. He was bleeding everywhere. He saw me naked, too. Well, the back of me.”

“Hermione Granger, I cannot believe you.”

“What? He was hurt; I couldn’t just leave him there.”

“Was it a matter of life or death?”

“No.”

“Then you most certainly could have. Hell, even if it was death.”

Hermione smacked Ginny on the arm.  

She laughed. “I’m joking, chill.”

Hermione smiled briefly. “Really, though, the thing I’m most confused about is why I let him kiss me. I mean, I did let him. I could have said no.. but I just didn’t.”

“I mean…” Ginny shifted. “Do you _like_ Malfoy?”

“I don’t hate him. I don’t like him, either, and certainly not like that. He’s attractive, I can’t lie. But I don’t harbor the same all out hatred for him that Ron and Harry do.”

“He’s evil. Look at his family.. Bellatrix killed Sirius, and all three of them share blood. He’s horrible to you, too. Or, at least, he was. Why would he even touch you, anyways? No offence to you, of course, but you’re muggleborn and that’s, well, against literally everything he and his family stand for.”

“See, that’s just the thing, though. When he kissed me he was very… passionate. But the next day when He saw me and I told him what happened, he was revolted. I thought he was going to throw up right there. But, he was also drunk that night. I could taste the whiskey.”

“Still, though. You don’t generally do things while you’re drunk that you don’t want to do, unless someone is forcing you to. Alcohol impairs your judgment; it doesn’t change your entire personality.”

“I really don’t know. Just don’t tell Harry or Ron, really. They’d probably have a fit and disown me as a friend or something.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Harry’s all fired up about him this year, though. I mean Malfoy is literally all he talks about.”

“Maybe Harry has a crush.”

“Yeah, right.”

The two girls laughed, walking back into the Great Hall. They sat down again, the boys next to them were deep into a discussion about Quidditch.

“So, what are you going to do about him?”

“I’m not sure. See, the weird thing is, even though he’s still a jerk, he isn’t the same jerk he’s always been. I mean, I feel like a lot of his comments have been more teasing than malicious. He let me help him when he was hurt – not that he really had a choice, but still. His words don’t have as much venom.”

She looked up, then. He was drinking from a goblet and listening to something that Blaise Zabini was saying.

“Just be careful, okay? I mean, if he tries to hurt you or anything, you’re more than capable of defending yourself. If he’s trying to charm you it’s probably something bad. If you ever need help, I’m here, okay?”

“Thanks, Gin.” Hermione smiled at her friend, placing her hand over Ginny’s and squeezing it.

Finally Ron broke away from his discussion. “Where’d you two go?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Bathroom, why do you care?”

“Touchy, touchy.” He replied, shoving a piece of bacon into his mouth.

It was Friday, so Hermione had double potions first, then DADA, then lunch, followed by Herbology and Arithmancy. After breakfast she walked down to the dungeons with Harry and Ron. They filed into the potions classroom where Professor Slughorn was waiting.

“Good morning!” He said, cheerily. “Today we will be brewing a very special potion… which you can find on page 76 of your text books. Instructions are on the board-“ He waved his wand and the instructions did indeed appear on the black board at the front of the room. “- You may begin! Of course all of your necessary ingredients are in the store cupboard.”

Hermione flipped to the page in her text book. It seemed easy enough, it was only a beautification potion. She stood up and walked over to the cupboard to gather her ingredients. While doing so, Malfoy came up behind her and began gathering his.

“So, Granger. You going to let Potter outshine you, again?” He murmured just so she could hear.

“It was a fluke, Malfoy.”

“Oooh, should I tell him that you don’t believe in his abilities?”

The glare she gave him shot daggers. “What do you want?”

He smirked. “Want? Nothing, I’m just following instructions.”

“Well, how about you do that silently?” She turned to walk back over to her table, but not before she saw Malfoy slip a small box containing Wolfsbane into his cauldron before carrying the whole thing over to his table he shared with Pansy. He then stealthily took the box out and dropped it into his school bag.  

Curious, she thought, because Wolfsbane was not a part of the potion they were brewing, and it was a very dangerous substance if not used correctly. Could he be trying to poison someone? She wouldn’t put it past him.

She began to work on her potion, falling into an easy rhythm. First she ground the wings of three fairies, stirring slowly. After a minute she added the morning dew. She heated it, stirring vigorously. Next to her, Harry was giving his potion a few lazy stirs. He hadn’t heated his, but he added six rose petals instead of seven. She frowned.

“What are you doing?” She asked, her tone a little sharper than she meant.

“Brewing a potion.”

“Yes, thank you. But why aren’t you following the recipe?”

“This way is better.”

“What, are you a potions master now?”

He laughed. “Don’t be silly. I’m just trying something out.”

“If that explodes, I’m not responsible.”

He grinned. “It won’t.”

Much to her chagrin it did not explode. In fact, it was a brighter than hers when it was finished. Slughorn came around at the ned of class to check their progress, and, again, Harry had the best one. Hermione was frustrated, her frizzy hair crackled with annoyance.

“Bravo, Mr. Potter! Let’s test it, shall we? Any volunteers?”

Nobody raised their hand.

“Very well.” Slughorn said. “I guess I’ll just have to test it myself.” He scooped some into a cup and drank it.

“Pleasant flavor.” He commented, and before their eyes his wrinkles began to disappear. His hair grew longer and less grey, his eyes a deeper shade of blue, his skin more tan. He conjured a mirror and took a look.

“Truly amazing, indeed! Excellent work, full marks!” Slughorn clapped Harry on the shoulder. Harry blushed furiously.

For someone who was so famous he sure didn’t like the attention to be focused on him. On the other side of the room, Malfoy was giving him a look that could kill. His potion, finished and probably just as good, went unnoticed by Slughorn.

The bell rang for the end of class, and Slughorn waved his wand to clear their work.

“Don’t forget your essays due next Wednesday! Have a wonderful weekend, everybody!”

The day passed slowly for Hermione, but she didn’t mind. Her classes were interesting, as always. She left dinner early to pick up a few books she needed from her room before heading to the library to begin her potions essay. As she was coming out of the portrait hole, though, she saw the tail end of Draco Malfoy disappear around the corner at the other end of the corridor, which was strange, because he had absolutely no business being on the seventh floor.

She abandoned her sanity in favor of curiosity and followed him. She rushed a little to keep up, but stayed close enough behind that he wouldn’t see or hear her. He stopped, she saw him pace in front of a stretch of wall that she knew to be the entrance to the room of requirement, and then he entered the room through the ornate wooden doors before they disappeared.

What could Draco Malfoy be doing in the room of requirement? Hermione mulled over these thoughts as she walked back down to the library. She happened to glance out the window as she sat down to pull out her books. There was a full moon rising.

_A/n: I’m not super satisfied with this chapter… but you guys will tell me what you think, right? Please Favorite, Follow, and Review! It would make me very happy. Not that I want to force you to review… but the more that I get, the more inclined I am to post a new chapter! Don’t forget that you can follow me on my tumblr: slytherinsnitches._


	6. Chapter 6

_A/n: Okay, nerds. Let’s do this._

**_"Happiness in intelligent people is the rarest thing I know."_ **

The pain ripped through him, cracking and snapping his bones, twisting and contorting his body and his mind. Draco barely had enough time to run into the room of requirement and lock himself in the cage. Throwing his wand as far away as possible, he silently prayed to nobody that this would work. This had to work.

He tore off his shirt and his pants, throwing them outside the cage, as well. He paced back and forth. Shivers traveled up and down his spine, extending to his fingertips and his toes. White hot blood coursed through his veins as he collapsed to the floor, writhing. The tendons in his arms and legs snapped and stretched as his body took the shape of a wolf. He howled in anguish, his pupils constricting, his breath coming rapidly, hot and wet.

Draco’s body was no longer his own, but one borne of an ancient curse. He curled into a ball, wrapping his tail around him. He had learned, somewhat, to control himself whilst in his wolf form. With pure determination he was able to suppress some of his more violent instincts, often resorting to pacing or sleeping when locked in the confines of the Malfoy dungeons.

He snorted; his fur was matted with his own dried blood. Since he had transformed for the first time, he had been unable to go outside, and unable to wash himself. Draco was hungry, but there was nothing to eat. He got up, pacing the small area of the magical cage, and carefully tested the bars.

They shocked him. He whimpered, backing down, making sure that no part of him touched the bars.

The evening passed uneventfully. Even though he was a wolf, he wasn’t stupid. Pain was enough to instinctually tell him not to try that thing again. Curled into a ball, he fell asleep.

Pain woke him. Of course pain woke him, that was something he was beginning to know very well. He had stopped fighting the transformation, and let it overtake him. His body squished its way back to his normal, human form.

Lying on the floor inside the cage as the sun rose outside his window, Draco cried silently.

It was Saturday, so he needn’t worry about classes, but he knew that his friends would wonder where he had gotten off to if he didn’t show up for breakfast. He pulled himself off the floor – he was naked – and unlocked the gate. There was a shower in the corner of the room, the hot water felt soothing to his sore body. He let the water wash over him, relaxing his muscles. Draco was exhausted.

The Great Hall was full by the time he walked in and sat down with Pansy and Blaise. They were already in a heated discussion over who would win in a fight, McGonagall or Snape.

“McGonagall can turn herself into a cat, though.”

“So? What benefit would that have in a fight?” Blaise was rooting for Snape.

Draco didn’t feel particularly hungry; in fact queasiness was gnawing at the inside of his stomach.  He pushed the food on his plate around, though, to give the appearance that he was eating. He hadn’t been eating much lately, and had lost quite a bit of weight. He still retained his muscles from Quidditch, he generally kept himself in shape, but he was very thin. His skin stretched taut over his face, sharpening his already angular features.

“I bet she would just transfigure Snape into a worm and step on him.”

“I’d like to see her try, Snape’s got a whole arsenal of curses he could throw her way. What do you think, Drake?”

He shrugged noncommittally. His head was pounding, and he made a mental note to visit the hospital wing to stock up on some headache potions.

His friends looked worried.

“You okay?” Blaise asked, his usual smile set in a frown.

“Fine,” Draco smiled, trying to be genuine.

Pansy didn’t look convinced. “You’re off your game, Drake.”

“At least I have game.” He retorted, smirking.

Blaise laughed. “Want some ice for that burn?”

Pansy giggled. “Fine, you got me.”

He looked around the Great Hall, what he was looking for, he wasn’t sure, until he felt _her_ eyes on him. This was getting really very annoying.

Hermione watched as he struggled to pull a smile across his face. She wasn’t sure why he had grabbed her attention, today. Perhaps because of the late entrance, perhaps because of the way his robes seemed to hang off of his body more than usual, or the dark purple bags under his eyes. Draco Malfoy did not look well. Not at all. And, as much as she hated to admit it, she was a little concerned.

She turned to Harry, a sudden thought coming to her.

“Harry?”

“Mmm?” He was just spooning a bit of oatmeal into his mouth.

“The room of requirement – can it be used for anything?”

He pondered this for a moment. “I mean, I know that you can only use it within the castle. It can’t take you anywhere. But as far as I know it will give you anything you need. Why?”

She shrugged. “Just curious, I might see if the library has anything about it.”

He smiled at her, warmly. “I may join you, I have to finish this Potions essay.”

“Not going to wait until Tuesday night?”

“I have practice, I’ll never get it done in time if I wait.”

“Amazing, you not procrastinating.”

“Hey, now.” Harry flashed her a grin.

After a while, people began to filter out. It was Saturday, meaning there were no classes, and there was no need to be up at a certain time. Most of the older kids were probably still asleep, as it was only 11:00. The food would disappear from the tables within the hour, only to reappear again at 2.

Ginny slid into the bench across from her.

“Are you going to the party tonight?”

“Party?”

“Yeah, some Ravenclaws are throwing a party up in their tower. They’re letting people from other houses in for a Galleon.”

“I dunno, I have work to-“

“You’re going.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, grinning. “Fine, if I must.”

Truly, she was okay with going to a party with her friend. Although she did in fact have work to do, a little break couldn’t hurt. She nudged Harry on the arm and the two got up to go down to the library. He had forgotten his school bag, so while he went up to the common room to grab it, Hermione continued on.

Since it was still early there weren’t many people inside, only a straggler or two, probably from fifth year. She went to her normal table in the back corner and sat down, pulling her books out. Harry joined her a few minutes later, and they chatted amiably over their potions essay. She was just beging to help him with his when Malfoy peeked his head around the corner.

“Ah,” He said, “I didn’t realize anyone would be here. I’ll be going, then.”

“What, no derogatory comments? No smirk? Nothing rude to say at all?” Harry questioned defensively.

Malfoy looked tired, and he obviously didn’t want a fight. Somewhat uncharacteristic, Hermione thought, but then again, he had been acting very odd lately.

Hermione put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Just let it go.” She whispered. His eyes shifted to her, surprised.

Malfoy glanced over to her, his expression an almost thank you. He turned and walked away. Harry and Hermione were left in silence.

“What did you do that for?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of it? Always needing to fight with him?”

“I don’t always need to fight with him.”

“Harry, you kind of do. I think sometimes you just need to learn when to let things go.”

He sighed. “I guess maybe you’re right.”

“Of course I am,” she commented offhandedly. Harry smirked. “Now, let’s get to work.”

After dinner, which was rather uneventful, Hermione and Ginny waited in the common room until it was time to go to the party.

Ginny had changed into a rather tight fitting, short black dress, and straightened her long red hair. Hermione had changed too, into a pair of black jeans and a sequined top. It was just enough flash for a party, but not enough to overdo it. She also pulled up her hair into a fashionable ponytail and had taken the time to apply a little makeup, at least to play up her eyes. The two pulled on their house robes, just in case a prefect or a teacher caught them, and left around 9.

Harry and Ron were coming behind them in a few minutes, they were taking longer to get ready. Although, it was probably Ron who was taking so long, pestering Harry for fashion advice. Hermione chuckled at the thought.

About halfway up Ravenclaw tower, a student stood waiting for guests. Once a small group was gathered, they would collect the money and lead them to the door to let them in. Inside the room, it was loud. There were a lot of people, from all four houses, talking and dancing to a very bass-heavy beat. The lights had been dimmed, and somebody had spelled flashing colorful ones, not unlike ones seen in muggle clubs. Hermione assumed that this was probably the work of a muggleborn seventh year.

There was plenty of alcohol, and somebody was in charge of mixing drinks over at a table in the corner. The Ravenclaws had really gone all out for this. She offered to go get a drink for Ginny, and was just starting to go back to her friend when a tall, slim figure stepped in front of her.

“You know, you look awfully nice this evening-”

She rolled her eyes. “Not in the mood, Malfoy.”

“-One might even think you were a pureblood.”

“Hark.” She laughed sarcastically, “A compliment? How sincere of you.”

He shifted uncomfortably.

“What, nothing to say?” Her tone was a bit more biting than she meant. He was definitely off his game, and Hermione wondered if he had been sincere, even though it was backhanded.

“I’d offer to get you a drink, but you already have one.” He said, finally.

“And risk being poisoned, no thank you.”

“Granger, you really think I would try to kill you right here in the middle of all of these people?”

She tried to find a way around him and back to Ginny.

“Honestly, Malfoy?” She was dead serious. “I’m not really sure what you’re capable of.”

Her words struck a chord in him. She was afraid. She wouldn’t show it, she was too damn stubborn but she was honestly scared of what Draco might do to her. This upset him more than it should have.

“Granger-“ He said, softly. The music was thumping so loudly, it was hard for her to hear him. She absentmindedly shuffled a bit closer. “I would never do anything to hurt you.”

His eyes were absent of mockery. This new Draco was very strange, and she wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Sure she had enjoyed kissing him, and hadn’t minded seeing him naked, but did she want it to happen again? Did she want any interaction like that with him again, ever?

Ginny came up behind him, pushing through the crowd of people.

“I was wondering where you’d gotten to.” She saw who Hermione had been talking to. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” She handed her friend her drink. “I was coming back to you, but somebody happened to be in my way.”

“On the contrary, I was just standing her minding my own business and here comes this monstrosity, bothering me and my friends.” He motioned towards Pansy and Blaise, who were grinding a few feet away from him, not paying any attention to the situation whatsoever.

Ginny grabbed Hermione’s hand, and began to drag her back to where Harry and Ron were waiting. “Well, get back to it, then.”

The boys looked nice, they had both smartened up and were wearing classier, darker clothes. Immediately Ginny grabbed Harry, who looked a bit bewildered, and pulled him into the throng of people. They began to dance, Harry awkwardly, Ginny with a little bit more finesse (as much finesse as you can have whilst practically being on top of somebody). Hermione was left standing with Ron. She sipped her drink.

“Er- want to dance?” He asked, sounding hopeful.

“Sure.” She smiled at him, leading him next to where Ginny and Harry were.

Hermione didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, so she didn’t dance back to front like her other two friends, but she still danced close. The longer she danced, the more flushed she became, and the more she drank until she was pink and sweaty and sufficiently impaired.

She was picking up another drink, and turned around, running into Malfoy- again.

“Oh for god’s sake. This needs to stop happening.” She nearly spilt vodka all down his shirt.

“I quite disagree, Granger, although I am not the one with a lack of spatial awareness.”

“I am too spatially aware.” She pouted.

“Really?” He grabbed her shoulders and spun her around in a few circles. She nearly fell over, but he caught her. “See?”

She giggled involuntarily. “Touché.”

“Going back to Weasely, eh? I see he’s had a massive hard-on for you the entire evening.”

She swatted him on the arm, taking another swig of her drink. “Don’t be so crude.”

“I’m not, he’s been eyeing you all night. He looks like he might pounce on you given the proper moment.”

She squinted at him. There was an expression on his face – or maybe she was just drunk – that resembled jealousy.. or worry? She huffed and tried to sidestep him. He blocked her.

“Malfoy, will you let me through?”

“Not unless you give me a dance.” He smirked down at her.

“Fine. One.”

He nodded, and pulled her close to him. He smelled good to her, like pine needles and fresh parchment and sandalwood. She subconsciously wondered if that was cologne or soap or if that’s just the way he smelled. Her brain registered that he was very close to her, that his breath was on her hair, on her neck, but it didn’t send out alarm bells. In fact, the closeness felt, well… good.

She looked up at him, and his intense eyes were staring down at her. He ran his fingers through her hair, and suddenly pulled her face up to his and kissed her. His lips were soft, but firm, and needy. He kissed her fiercely, passionately. Hermione’s mind fogged up, she couldn’t think clearly, and she kissed him back.

She opened her mouth to say something and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue into hers. She wasn’t revolted, in fact, she wanted more. Hermione leaned up on her tip toes, grabbing fistfuls of his hair to keep him close. She didn’t care that there were people all around her and she didn’t care tha her friends were probably wondering where she had gotten to. In that moment it was just her and Draco Malfoy. And as weird as it sounded, that was all she wanted.

But dark thoughts began to creep back in. Was he a death eater? Was she kissing a death eater? And – dare she say it – could she be developing feelings for a death eater? She pulled away suddenly.

“I can’t. Not now, I can’t.” She whispered, her sweet breath hot against his face.

With that, she turned and hurried clumsily out of the Ravenclaw common room and down the stairs. Without missing a beat, he rushed after her.

_A/n: Ahh, oui. Young, confused, children: How frustrating they are to write. Hope you enjoyed, sorry this took like thirty years to update. Make sure to favorite, follow, and review! As always you can (please do!) follow me on my tumblr. The URL is slytherinsnitches._


	7. Chapter 7

_A/n: I am the worst kind of person. Why? Because I’ve left you all hanging for like, 4 months. I am so so sorry. Life got in the way, and school, and I just kept forgetting to or was too lazy to update. So, here. Take this as a token of my apologies._

_Warning: This chapter is about 90% graphic pornography. I just needed to get it out the way so that I could hopefully focus on more PLOT (what is plot) in the next chapters. I hope you at least enjoy the super graphicness.. Oh god.._

**Chapter 7**

Running down the stairs had probably been a very bad idea, as Hermione nearly bowled over two younger students in her attempt to flee the Ravenclaw common room. She ran and kept running, and when she couldn’t run anymore, she walked. Coming to a stop outside one of the courtyards somewhere in the castle, she heaved. Out of breath, tears brimming in her eyes, she sank against the nearest wall. The cool stone felt good on her back as she closed her eyes. She didn’t hear him come up behind her.

“You look like shit.”

She wiped the tears from her eyes, not even bothering to turn around.

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know. I was just- are you okay?”

Truth be told, he had no idea what he wanted. He didn’t even know why he had followed her. Seeing her now, tear stained cheeks, vulnerable and weak looking, he pitied her. And he felt something in his gut that he couldn’t identify. It was some sort of anxiety that he couldn’t place. It was annoying; it ate at him little by little as the moments passed and showed no signs of leaving. He sank down next to her.

“I’m sorry.” He said softly, reaching over to brush her hair out of her face. The look in her eyes told him that she didn’t believe him. She attempted to scoot away from him, but he just moved closer.

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong.”

“I can’t. It’s stupid.”

“You can.”

“Why would you want to know, anyways? Why would you care?” Her eyes were fierce and hard. There were no more tears.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.”

“I, for some reason that I cannot identify, do not hate you as much as I used to.”

It was like an emotional slap in the face. Hermione didn’t know how to react to the heat pooling between her thighs at the way his eyes bored into hers. She didn’t know how to react to her heart thumping in her chest and the way it felt like she couldn’t breathe properly. His presence was like a drug. Maybe it was just because she was intoxicated, but everything seemed to be foggier, though he was perfectly clear.

She didn’t like it. And yet, she did.

She leaned in closer to him, subconsciously, and kissed him tentatively. It was soft, light, timid. He breathed into her, pushing his hands through her hair and securing her to him. He kissed her more roughly, passionately, his hand finding its way up her shirt and under her bra.

“Wait.” She whispered.

He stopped, pulling back. “Yes?”

“It’s cold out here.”

He smirked. Her nipples were hard, he pinched one of them. “I know.”

She blushed. He stood up, holding his hand out to pull her up with him.

Inside the castle it was warmer. Everyone was asleep, or partying, so the hallways and classrooms were devoid of prying eyes. They got lucky, the first one they tried was unlocked.

She sat down on top of a desk. He looked at her, surveying the girl he seemed to be, as he thought he could identify it now, falling in love with. There was no point in hiding it or pretending. He was falling hard.

Her pink lips were slightly parted and puffy from him kissing her, her clothes and hair were disheveled, her eyes were red from crying, but they shined in the dim classroom light.

“May I?” He asked, moving a little closer to her.

“Yes.” She whispered, arcing into him as he kissed her once more. She let him explore her this time; his hands ran over her curves, down and up her thighs, her arms. He pulled her shirt over her head and unhooked her bra, kissing her satiny white shoulders. 

She moaned, throwing her head back slightly. He could feel himself hardening, the anticipation of being with her was almost too much for him. He pulled his own shirt over his head, letting her run her fingers down his chest, and her nails raked slightly down his back. He hitched her legs around his waist as they kissed, she rocked into him, the friction of her warmth against him making him gasp with need.

Hermione bit his lip slightly, and it was his undoing. He yanked her pants and panties off in one swoop, and flipped her over on the desk so that she was on her knees with her ass in the air. He ran one finger down her slit before sticking it in – first one, then easing a second in. She was dripping and ready for him. He plunged his fingers in and out of her, hitting her G-spot. Hermione moaned in pleasure, rocking her hips to meet the palm of his hand. Her pleasure was building – the warmth was pooling in her abdomen – and then suddenly it released in violent waves. She shuddered against him, crying out, and when it was over she collapsed on the desk. A puddle of liquid was underneath her.

“Jesus,” He commented, smacking her lightly on the ass and kissing her back. “I didn’t know you were a squirter.”

She blushed a little. “Well to be honest with you, neither did I.”

He grinned, erection straining painfully in his pants. “Would you like to continue?”

She nodded, chewing on her lip. “Yes.”

He slowly unzipped his pants and dropped them and his boxers to his ankles. She gasped a little, seeing him naked again. The first time she had tried not to look so much, but he was so different in the moonlight, so beautiful. She could see small white scars that glowed on his body in various places, and made a mental note to ask about them at a later time.

It occurred to her how strange this was. Here she was: inebriated, in an empty classroom with one of the people she had previously despised the most, about to have sex. She smiled, pulling him down to kiss her roughly, again. Such an un-Hermione-like thing to do. And yet she was happy. For some odd reason she didn’t want to be anywhere else. It scared her a little bit, but in a good way. She could feel her blood pumping, and all of that adrenaline was going straight to her groin.

He rubbed his thumb in circles over her clitoris as he spread her legs a little wider. The look on his face – mixed expressions of need and awe – was so intense as he carefully pushed his length inside of her. He sank in slowly, all the way so that their bodies were flush against each other. She gasped at the sudden feeling of being full.

He moved slowly at first, but built speed, pounding into her over and over and over until they were both moaning each other’s names. She came again, even more violently than the first time, her body shaking against his as pleasure so intense rolled through her entire body. It was like she was on fire. After a few more minutes, he came, too. Gripping her body hard and with one final thrust, he collapsed against her, half on top of her, and kissed her sweetly. Beads of sweat rolled down his face as he pulled out of her and transfigured one of the other desks into a mattress and some blankets, where he pulled them both down to fall asleep.

When he woke the next morning, sunlight beaming brightly down into his eyes, he was acutely aware of the fact that there was another human being pressed against him, and they were both naked. Her bushy hair was pressed against his face, and she smelled like perfume and sweat and sex. He carefully pulled himself up and performed a quick check on his body. Everything seemed to be fine, and he was only slightly surprised to see that the woman he had been pressed against was Hermione Granger. He remembered the night before… kind of. He remembered the sex. Some of the most intense sex he had experienced in a long time.

Pulling on his clothes, Draco carefully crept out of the room and down the stairs to his dorm where he grabbed his bag and padded upstairs to the prefect’s bathroom. He hopped in the shower, miraculously having avoided everyone, and sighed, shaking his hair out of his eyes.

The door shut quietly behind him. Someone else was there, and they were right behind hi. He turned around cautiously.

She was standing there, a towel wrapped around her torso, her lips slightly parted and her hair wild. He hadn’t felt it before, but suddenly her presence was intoxicating. It was like he had suddenly been injected with the most powerful heroin. All of his blood suddenly pooled to his thighs, and he could feel his penis becoming erect, throbbing at the sight and thought of being inside her again.

She tilted her head, looking curiously at where he knew she could see his arousal, and dropped the towel. He exhaled sharply and was awestruck again by how beautiful her body was. Her porcelain white skin, the full roundness of her breasts, her soft pink nipples, the way her labia were puffy and came together in that beautiful way that labia do. All he wanted was to push himself between those beautiful pink lips and deep inside the wet heat of her body.

She walked towards him, hips shifting from side to side, and kissed him softly. He tilted his body so that his dick pushed between her legs, and he was delighted to find that she was already wet. He picked her up and thrust inside her with one quick motion, kissing her and bringing them back into the shower so he could lean her against the wall while he fucked her roughly.

She cried out, biting his shoulder. He could feel her getting close to release again, and he could feel it for himself, too. They came at the same time, him screaming her name and her screaming his and she wrapped her legs tightly around him, forcing him to cum inside her. When they were done, some of his seed dripped wetly down the side of her legs. And with one of the sexiest things he had ever seen a woman do – she reached two perfect fingers down inside her, pulled them out, and tasted him.

He nearly fainted from the sight of how god damn sexy that was, and pulled her back on top of him to start all over again.

 

_A/n: And…. scene. Again, sorry for the porn (I’m not). But yeah.. plot next chapter… okay… plot… yeah.. Don’t forget to favorite and comment! Follow me on Tumblr, too! The URL is slytherinsnitches, Cheers!_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

_a/n: sorry for the prolonged wait for this. I get in moods where I can write and moods when I can’t. I’ve been sick lately, and it just feels right now, I guess._

Fully dressed, in his sexily-disheveled swagger, Draco descended the grand staircase and walked into the Great hall. Immediately he scanned the room for Hermione, who he noticed wasn’t there yet. He sat down at his customary spot between his friends.

The party had been over a week ago, and Draco had seen Hermione a few times since. He longed for her, he felt constantly pulled toward her as if bound by some unseen thread. Every time he was near her it was electric. They saw each other in the library – stolen kisses in the stacks, in the middle of the day surrounded by other students he would sneak his hands up her thigh and make her squirm.

She knew he liked to play dirty and was relentless. With her feet, with her hands, with her teeth and tongue. Hermione may not have had a significant amount of romantic or sexual experience, but she knew what she was doing. Probably had read about it somewhere. It amused him to know that she might have been looking up sex tips somewhere in a book to figure it out. Or maybe she just had a natural instinct.

He shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth and turned his head to Pansy, who was taking a sip of coffee. She looked tired as she pushed her bangs out of her eyes.

“So Pans, how’re the classes going?”

She set down her mug, raising an eyebrow at him. “Could be worse. Too much homework, we should study sometime.”

He nodded at the suggestion. “Sure, I’ve been falling a little behind in things.”

She smiled at him. “Hey, can I ask your advice on something?” He said a little quieter.

“Trouble in paradise?” Her eyes glinted.

“No, no trouble, I just need some advice. Walk with me?”

They got up and left the hall together, choosing to walk outside in the cool fall air. The sky was blue, and it was one of those autumn days where everything seemed perfectly bright and clear and crisp. The leaves had gone from brilliant greens to scarlet and gold and rich, crunchy browns.

They walked along hands in their pockets, admiring how gorgeous it was. Pansy stopped next to the lake, plopping down on a large boulder under an Oak tree.

“Draco, you’ve been looking so ill lately. Are you sick? You’ve changed since last year.”

Draco frowned. “Ill is.. kind of.. yes, I guess. I don’t know how much I can share.. but I’m fine. Or I’ll be fine, maybe.”

She looked out over the glassy lake, true to its name, the murky depths betrayed no secrets.

“Well, Draco.. I’m here for you if there’s anything you need. You know that.”

He nodded, smiling at her. “I know, Pans. Thank you. And I did want to ask you something.”

“Shoot.”

“I’ve been seeing someone. Kind of, and if I tell you who you’ll probably try to kill me-“

“Hermione Granger.” She interjected.

He was taken aback. “You know?”

She pulled her sleeves over her hands. “Of course I know. Well, it was more by accident than me just being me. I saw you two together. Kissing actually – nearly made me vomit if we’re going to be real. But then I just shrugged and got on with my life. Not that I want you to think that I like her. I don’t like her.” She looked at him then to reinforce that point. “Well, I don’t really know her. But I know her type, and I don’t like the self righteous-courage-hoorah-bravery shit that Gryffindors seem to bleed.”

Draco chuckled. “Wait, so you two are best friends, right?”

She rolled her eyes.  “Anyways, what did you want to talk about”

“Okay well that’s the weird thing, right? I hated her. I mean, _hated_ her. Or.. I thought I did. I thought that I did. I’m.. confused.. and conflicted.. because while I love being with her I can’t be with her without… well, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. And I also know that you don’t hate her. You don’t believe in the same blood purity bull that your father does, or even,” she cast him a glance “the Dark Lord.”

He hesitated. “But I did believe it. At one point I did. Or I thought I did. I don’t even know. It’s been pounded into my head since I was a child. Relentlessly. ‘We are better. WE are superior. Look at them, barbaric, uneducated, disgusting. Filthy, unclean.’ But I don’t know if I really believe it. I don’t know if I ever believed it. They don’t look different. Their blood isn’t any less red than my own. So why do we hate them? Why is there such a fear of the unknown that causes people to hate anything that is remotely different in any way? Granger, for instance. She may not have magical parents or magical blood but it is undeniable that she is one of the greatest witches of her time. Her power, her drive… she’s a better witch than many purebloods.”

She sighed, looking off across the lake. A few younger students were throwing rocks into the water across the way, and the brief outline of the giant squid made its way lazily toward the splashes.

“I agree.” She said softly, after a moment. “I don’t know if I believe it, either. I know I don’t. I know I can’t. It’s not logical, it’s just… bigotry. Senseless hate. I mean, certainly some people are better than other people, but I don’t think that you can think that you’re better than someone based on blood status.”

“It goes against everything we’ve been told. And with the darkness rising, the darkness coming down on us and over us constantly. How are we supposed to believe these things when we aren’t sure if we believe them and there’s the threat of being killed for our uncertainty? I hated her a few weeks ago. The thought of touching her physically disgusted me and now…” He trailed off, despair evident in his stormy grey eyes.

“I feel like I need to be with her or around her. I need to see her I need to touch her. I feel like I need to love her. But why now? Why her? What’s so special about this one girl who is so absolutely…” He clenched his fists, a momentary loss for words. “She could ruin everything. She could bring my life crashing down around me – well, worse than it already is. You know what’s happening, Pansy. You know my family you know what He’s doing. I.. I can’t tell you what he’s done to me.. and what I have to do.. but I have to do it. They’re watching me.. and if I don’t.. they’ll kill me. And she- she jeopardizes the whole thing. She might be able to help me if there’s any such a way for her to understand but.. I don’t know. Her heart is so pure and kind, which I must admit I don’t understand the appeal of it, but.. I don’t know if she can see me for what I’m trying to be and not who I was. And I don’t know if I want her to.”

They walked back inside. It was near noon now, and both felt relatively satisfied but slightly unsettled by the conversation they had had. Before they got to the doors Pansy stopped and turned to him.

“Just so you know, Draco, whatever you do and whoever you chose to or not to love, I will stand beside you. As far as I’m concerned we are family.”

“Well it’s a good thing we’ve never had sex then.” He said playfully as she whacked him on the arm.

Draco waded through the throngs of students alone and back to his dorm deep in thought. His task, his curse, his love. Sometimes he missed being the young, naïve boy who got into scuffles with the Golden Trio on the train or took joyrides around the country on a broomstick. But with the looming threats around him, Draco forced himself to keep a straight face as he debated how to get through the next few months with the least collateral damage possible.

 

_a/n: Hello my fine friends. Gonna try and update this more frequently. Hope you enjoyed this chapter. As always you can leave a review and follow and favorite. Follow me on twitter @ChloeRNG and on tumblr at slytherinsnitches. Let me know where you want this story to go! I would love to take your suggestions and incorporate some fan theories and headcannons into my own story. Love you all <3_

 


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

 ** _He’d stop his heartbeats for her. Another’s heartbeat for her. Anything_**.

“We had sex.”

Ginny’s eyebrows flew into her hairline. “You had sex?”

“Yes.”

“You and Draco Malfoy.”

“ep.”

“Sex?”

“Three times.”

“Well spank my ass and call me Sally.”

Hermione snorted, shifting in the big leather chair that sat close to the Gryffindor fireplace. “It was a little over a week ago. I’ve seen him a few times since but not for a long period of time.”

“And have you, ya know, done it since?”

“I mean.. not all the way.. like full intercourse.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows again. “Elaborate.”

“Well in the library-“

“That’s kinky.”

Hermione smiled. “Yeah, it is. But he felt me up in the library. The other day. There were other students around. It was very erotic. But you can’t tell anyone. Especially not Harry or Ron.”

“No, I would think not. They probably wouldn’t take to kindly to this. I don’t know how I feel about ti, either. Do you like him? Like really like him?”

“I don’t know what I feel about him, Gin. I mean I like him but I’m confused. I feel like I’m drawn to him. I know where he is, or at least I know if he’s nearby. It’s like we’re bonded, but there hasn’t been any bond that I know of.”

“Weird.” Ginny took a sip of coffee. The girls were situated in the Gryffindor common room in their favorite chairs bye the fire. It was late, but not too late on Wednesday night. There were a few people scattered throughout the room, mostly older students, but a few first and second years sat reading or doing homework. Harry and Ron were by the window playing Wizard’s Chess.

“I’m still confused.. and I don’t know if I can like him. I mean, he isn’t evil. I don’t believe that he’s evil. I don’t think that he wants to be involved in what his family is involved in. But he doesn’t have a choice.”

Ginny nodded. “I see that point of view.”

Hermione sighed, pulling her knees to her chest.

“So was it good?” Ginny’s eyes glinted mischievously.

“I mean I don’t exactly have the best frame of reference for that sort of thing but it was… intense. He’s passionate, and rough and tender, and almost.. animalistic. It was.. incredible.”

Ginny smirked. “And would you do that.. well, him.. again?”

Hermione didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

 -------------------------------------------------------

October was upon them in full swing, and everyone could feel the rush that accompanied Halloween in the air. It was near, only a week away, and the decorations were being readied. A trip to Hogsmeade was planned for that Saturday.

The day dawned cold and clear. Grey sky accompanied a cold wind that blew the pretty red leaves off their trees and scattered them onto the ground. Students crunched down the path to Hogsmeade, cloaked and huddled together in warmth, laughter and chatter ringing out as they entered the village.

Hermione pulled her scarf tighter around her as she stepped into the tiny bookstore at the end of one of the roads. Hogsmeade was a charming little town situated not too far from Hogwarts. A stopping point for many people on their way south. It was also a tourist village, with multiple little inns, so there were plenty of beds. Tea shops, restaurants, and specialty stores lined the cobbled streets. There was an apothecary, where cauldrons were stacked as high as Hermione and a pretty older witch swept the leaves off of her welcome mat. There was a small ice cream parlor with white wicker chairs set up around levitating fire pits.

The bookstore was dimly lit and cozy, with shelves towering to the cielings, groaning slightly from the weight of the ancient tomes they held. There was a section for everything in the tiny shop, and if they didn’t have it you were guaranteed it could be found somewhere.

She brushed her fingers over the spines, walking to the back where the oldest volumes were found. Some were in Latin or Greek, some were in French or German and many other languages that she didn’t know. But they were beautiful. Some were hand illustrated account of history, their pages trimmed in gold and rich colored inks. There were large leather bound books that were too heavy for Hermione to lift, and smaller ones that she could fit in the palm of her hand.

She plucked one off the shelf at random and sat down, leafing through the pages. The musty smell of parchment and leather and ink swirled around her as she read. Soft sunlight leaked in the glass window by where she sat. She was alone, and the suddenly she wasn’t.

“Shit.” Was the murmur she heard from the other side of the case in front of her, followed by a thump.

Curiously, she stood up and looked around the corner. There, sucking on a bleeding thumb, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Surprised, she spoke before thinking. “What are you doing here?”

He turned around startled. “Getting a few books to read. I could ask the same of you.”

“Same reason.” She crossed her arms as he took a step closer. He pulled them apart and pushed them down to her side. His face was very close to hers, she could taste his breath. And then it was just them. Not in the shop, not in the country, but in the whole universe. There was no Voldemort, no task, no war. It was just them, and he kissed her.

It was soft, and slow, and burning. His teeth grazed her lip and she shuddered, locking her arms around his neck and weaving her delicate fingers in his hair. He breathed in roughly, almost a gasp. She felt it to. Something undeniably pulling them together in a world that was forcing them apart.

She didn’t know what was happening. Hermione only knew in that moment the he was her world. And that was a very dangerous thing.

He led her into the Three Broomsticks, careful to make sure nobody was looking at them strangely, and up the crooked wooden stairs to the private rooms. It was cozy, with wood paneled walls and floor, and a large fire roaring in the hearth. Hermione walked over to the little window and opened it, sitting on the bench. 

“What’s going on, Draco? Why me? Why now?”

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “Truly, I don’t know. Well I might know.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Care to share?”

“I don’t know if I can tell you. Well, I can’t tell you. I can’t tell anyone.”

She frowned. “Why not?”

He lowered his voice and sat down next to her. “I’m being watched.”

“By whom?”

“I’m not sure of who specifically. I don’t know their names. But they’re watching me. They probably know about us, and they wouldn’t be the only ones.”

She looked surprised, a shiver went down her back at the mention of “us.”

“Well, who is it?”

“Pansy.” He looked guilty.

“Oh well that’s not so bad is it? But she hates me, doesn’t she? Is she going to tell?”

“No. Pansy can be difficult. But she’s of the same frame of mind as me.”

“Which is?”

He hesitated. “I want to tell you things. I don’t know why I want to tell you. I don’t know why I stopped hating you, but I don’t think I ever really hated you. I wanted to hate you. I was told to, trained to. But I never really did. I never particularly liked you, mind. Always better than me at everything.” He gave her a half smile then. “But it was never because of your blood. I only used that as an excuse. But there is nothing-“ He picked up her hand, kissing it softly. “Filthy about you.”

“And Pansy feels the same?”

“We are Purebloods from old families. Things are different for us, or society is not the same society. We’re taught the old ways from when we’re very young. We grow up with magic, and there’s never a want for anything. The best clothes, food, education, entertainment. It’s a lavish lifestyle that I thoroughly enjoyed, but it comes with a price. You’re not allowed to think differently. You can’t. Your family will ostracize you and then you’ll have nothing. It’s even more dangerous now, with the Dark Lord and all of his followers. It isn’t just that your family will ostracize you, you could be killed. For talking to you right now, for touching you, I could be killed. I may be anyways but that’s beside the point. Pansy doesn’t agree with the system of thought. She and I know that there is no difference between a pureblood and a mudblood. It’s just old feuds. Old bigotry. People are scared of what they don’t know. It’s the same reason that my family has had to live in secrecy for years. The same reason we all have. So yes, Pansy is on my side. Blaise is as well. But we have to be careful.”

Hermione processed this information. “I knew it. I always knew you weren’t evil. Harry is obsessed. He thinks you’re a Death Eater. Working for Voldemort. But I knew. I always had a feeling.”

Draco was silent. “Hermione.. Harry is right. I am a Death Eater. But not in the way that you think I am. It wasn’t… my choice.” His face fell, his mask fell, and Hermione could see how tired he was. Not just his body, but his soul.

She cupped her hands around his face, stroking his cheeks. His stormy grey eyes were troubled.

“It’s okay. I know, you had no choice.”

He shook his head, holding her hands in his. “You know, but you don’t. There’s so much more that I  can’t-  I can’t tell you. I want to but I-“

He was in pain, and it hurt her. “It’s okay. I can be patient. I can wait. Whether it’s now or tomorrow or in twenty years, you can tell me. I’ll be here.”

He looked up at her, eyes smoldering under his lashes. “Twenty years?”

She shrugged. “The future is uncertain.”

He smiled then and kissed her softly. “Would you like a drink? There’s tea, or something stronger if you prefer.”

“Something stronger, I prefer.”

He stood and crossed the room to a little table with different  glass bottles of liquid. He selected one he knew, and pour two glasses, handing one to Hermione.

The heat of the firewhiskey burned her throat, and she welcomed it.

She looked down at the pale, slender hand laying on her knee. It was welcome, and she was comfortable.

“What are we doing here, Draco?” She whispered softly.

“Trying to survive.”

Outside, the wind blew a little harder.

a/n: hehe. But seriously, give me your ideas. This story is rapidly spiraling into something.. different. I don’t even know. Don’t forget to favorite, follow, and review. Follow me on tumblr @ slytherinsnitches, and on twitter @ChloeRNG

 


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

She faintly traced the outline of the tattoo on his arm. “How come I never saw it before?”

He smiled. “Concealment charm.”

“Ahhh.” Her fingernails scraped lightly over his forearm. He frowned, pulling his arm away.

“It’s ugly, isn’t it.”

She shook her head. “It’s ugly but it doesn’t define you. It isn’t you.”

“But it is me. It makes me sick, physically sick to have it.”

“And can I help?”

“No, there’s nothing. Nobody can help me now.”

“The Order can help you, Draco. To them, you’re still a child. You _are_ still a child. It isn’t your fault but we can help you.”

“If anybody knew that the Order of the Phoenix tried to help me- Hermione- you’d all be killed.”

“There is no way to get into that headquarters without us knowing. The wards are airtight.”

He thought for a moment. “I don’t know... maybe...”

“What have you been doing in the room of requirement?”

He pulled back then. His face flat and cold. There was no warmth. “How do you know about that? Who told you?”

“Nobody.” She said, startled by his reaction. “I saw you going there. A few times you walked in that direction. I was just curious. If you don’t want to tell me though-“

“I have to do it, Hermione. He- he gave me a job to do. And if I don’t do it, he’ll kill me. He’ll kill my mother.”

“Something to do with Harry? Or with Hogwarts?”

He nodded. “With Hogwarts.” He sighed, resigned to what he was telling her.

“There’s a room in the room of requirement. A room full of things nobody wanted, or things people wanted to hide. Lost things. There’s a cabinet in that room. It’s big and wooden and it has a mate in Borgin and Burke’s. you know the shop in Knockturn Alley? I was tasked with the job of fixing it.”

“Why?”

“To smuggle Death Eaters into Hogwarts.”

Hermione gritted her teeth. “And you were going to do this?”

“Yes. I never wanted to but... I had to. I have to.”

“There’s something else you aren’t telling me.”

“Hermione... I’m a werewolf.”

She stood up, walking over to the fire and crossing her arms. “How?”

“Fenrir. Last year at the Ministry my father failed to get the prophecy for the Dark Lord. That did not make him happy. He beat them. My father. My mother. And me. He wanted to punish my family for failing. Punish my father and his only son – a pureblood.. I’m a disgrace to my family name. Which is what he wanted. I’m not.. a Malfoy. Well, I am. But I’m not. I’m.. disgusting.”

She could see tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, and in that moment her heart was set. She loved him. She loved Draco Malfoy.

“Shh.” She whispered, coming next to him and pulling his head into her lap. “It’s okay.”

He sniffed. “You aren’t scared?”

“Why would I be? Lupin is a werewolf, too.”

“Oh I forgot about him. He’s in the Order too, then? I suppose?”

“Yes, he is.”

“He’ll hate me. I was rude and cruel.”

“You were a child.”

He sighed. “So where is the headquarters? Where do you all meet? The Weasley place..?”

She shook her head. “It’s in the city. I can’t tell you, but I can show you. Er.. would you like to go now?”

He looked frightened at the thought. “I guess it would probably be prudent to tell them this information. Maybe they can help me.”

She nodded. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to apparate?”

He smirked. “Actually I do. They taught me.. this summer.. quite a sway on ministry proceedings.. I can pretty much do whatever I want..”

“Oh, well that’s good then. We’ll have to do side along. Let me get you the address.”

She pulled out a quill and scratched the words on a bit of parchment, gave it to him to memorize, and threw it in the fire, just in case they were being watched.

They clasped arms very tightly and stood in the center f the room.

“You ready?” He whispered, kissing her forehead.

“As I’ll ever be.” They turned and disappeared into the darkness.

Hermione was unsure who they’d find when they got there. Sirius, probably. Remus, maybe. Molly might be there, maybe even the twins come by for a visit. She unlocked the door the way she’d been instructed (Malfoy was somewhat awed by the way the house just appeared out of nowhere) and she led him inside. It was dim, like it always was, but not like it used to be. There was warm light coming from the end of the hall where the kitchen was.

“Hello? Anyone here?”

“Hello?” A voice called from inside, there was a scraping as someone stood from a chair. “Hermione is that you?”

“It is!” She said, pushing through the door. “I’ve brought a guest.”

Sirius stood with a smile, pouring himself a cup of tea. But when he saw who her guest was, his smile turned acidic.

“Hermione, what are you doing? What are you thinking?”

He sat down the cup with a little more force than necessary. Draco shuffled awkwardly behind her.

“It’s okay.” She rubbed soothing circles on the back of his hand. “It’s okay,” she repeated. “He’s here to help. He has something to tell you.”

Sirius’s eyes flicked down to their intertwined hands, and a confused expression crossed his face.

“What have you gotten yourself into?” He sighed quietly, mostly to himself as he sat down and motioned for them to do the same.

Hermione took Draco’s coat and her own and set them at the end of the table.

“So,” Sirius said, somewhat coldly. “What are you doing here?”

“The Dark Lord gave me a task. There are two cabinets and I’m meant to be fixing them. He wants to smuggle Death Eaters into Hogwarts/”

Sirius looked alarmed by this information. “And who else knows? Do they know you’re here?”

“Nobody but  Hermione, and everyone involved on their side.”

“Their side? Are you not a part of it anymore?”

“I don’t see how I can be, seeing as we have very differing points of view on the importance of human life.”

A smile flitted on Sirius’s lips. “Well this is certainly something. I’ll have to call a meeting with everyone else so they can hear your story. I assume you want protection?”

“Yes-“ He stopped, a chocking sound coming into his throat. “But there’s something else. I’m a werewolf.”

Sirius looked pained. “I am sorry. How? Why?”

“Fenrir. After my father failed to retrieve the prophecy last summer.”

Sirius pressed his lips into a thin line. He had nearly died that evening at the Ministry. A close call that shouldn’t have happened. He had almost left Harry behind, alone, parentless once again.

Sirius reached his hand across the table and took Malfoy’s tightly. “We can help you. But we need to make sure you’re not a spy.”

“Do you not trust my judgement?” Hermione interjected.

“No, of course I do. But this is Draco Malfoy and we all know your history.”

“The past is the past. Draco and I are.. together. But please, don’t tell. As far as everyone else is concerned I brought him here because he volunteered information and wanted protection.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Sirius agreed, pulling parchment and a quill toward him. “Until everyone gets here, you’re free to food and drink and whatever else you would like. You can’t go back to Hogwarts today. Maybe not ever. They probably already know that you’re gone.”

“But my things-“

“Will be sent for. Even if you are a spy, I don’t want your blood on my hands. I don’t think anyone does. We protect, not destroy.”

Draco smiled weakly. “Thank you for this. For your kindness. I know that-“

Sirius silenced him with a soft wave of his hand. “Save it for when the others get here. They will want to know your full story.”

And they did. Soon the house was flooded with Order members. There was an air of uncertainty, as nobody was really sure about why they were there, but once they saw Draco Malfoy, they became suspicious. There was some animosity, and a small amount of negative energy charged the room, but it was mitigated by the fact that Hermione was sitting very close next to him, holing his hand.

Tonks showed up, making an entrance as always by tripping over something and waltzing into the room sporting short, electric blue hair. She winked at Hermione, smiling curiously at their intertwined hands. The last people to arrive were Harry and Ron. Harry walked in behind Sirius, talking animatedly about a quidditch game between Gryffindor and Slytherin the previous week. When they walked in, they glanced over at Hermione and paused. Ron shoved his hands further into his jacket pocket and looked more than a little uncomfortable. Harry just nodded curtly at Draco and sat next to Sirius, who was drinking a butterbeer.

He wiped his moustache off and stood up, clapping his hands and bringing the room to Order.

“Everyone! Hello, good evening. It’s good to see everyone is in good health. As you may have noticed, we have a guest.” He waved his hand over to Draco, who pinked a little bit as all the eyes in the room trained to him. Sirius continued. “Mr. Malfoy is here by his own doing. He’s come to us for his protection in exchange for information, and he is very welcome. I believe he has a few words to say?”

Draco stood, and Hermione squeezed his hand.

“Hello, everyone” He started, quietly. “I want to say thank you for allowing me to be here. I know it must be difficult, seeing me. Knowing what my family has put some of you through.” He winced a little. “And I’m sorry for that. I am not going to try and convince you that I’ve changed with my words, but maybe you can see with my actions. I’m not… who I was. I like to think that I have changed. And I would like to get to know you all in turn.” And he meant it.

That evening was full of laughter and friendship. In dark times, the fires of friendship are the greatest warmth. The group drank and ate and was merry. Sirius broke out his guitar, and Remus his accordion and the two did duets from bands Draco knew well. He laughed along with them, coming alive as the night wore on and feeling more comfortable by the minute.

Nobody gave him shifty glances or cold looks. Nobody ostracized him or treated him like he was any different. And he appreciated that, all while his Hermione sat next to him. When it got late and the party die down, Sirius and Remus sat together next to the dying fire, singing love songs quietly. Harry laughed along, enjoying the company of his mentors, and even Ron shot Hermione a tentative smile.

Hermione stood up then, motioning for Draco to follow her. As she pulled him through the door and up the stairs, Draco could have sworn that Sirius had given him a thumbs up.

_a/n: you know when you want something to go in a certain direction and then it goes into a completely different direction and you’re like what the fuck go back where you came from? Yeaahhhhhhhhh. Yeeeaaahhhhh. So anyways, hope you enjoyed it. I’m learning a lot about myself and this story the more I go. Make sure you follow, favorite, and review. The more reviews you leave, the more willing I am to keep updating. Also go ahead and follow me on twitter @ChloeRNG and on tumblr @ slytherinsnitches. Tell me what you think so far and feel free to tell me what you want to see in the future. Love you all._

 


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: It has been a long, long time since I’ve updated this, and for that, I’m sorry. Writing comes to me in bursts, and although I know I should write more, I can’t force it. I do love this story, though. So much. And I hope you do, too.._

 

**Chapter 11**

 

Hermione stretched her arms and walked into the dark hallway to the bathroom. Draco was asleep in her bed, shirtless chest reflecting moonlight through her curtains, face peaceful. She loved how he looked when he was sleeping, all of his worries and sorrows and sadness was erased.

A door opened to her left, and a set of hands were pulling her into the room.

“Harry what are you DOING?” She whispered, loudly. Harry’s face was stone.

“We need to talk.” Hermione had expected this. He had been far too passive at dinner, but of course he probably wouldn’t have wanted to make a scene.

She sighed, turning and sitting on his bed, hands in her lap. There was a cheerful fire roaring in the fireplace, and Ron was nowhere to be seen.

“Okay, what do you want to know?”

“Why is he here?”

“Exactly what he said at dinner.  We are giving him protection and he has information for us.”

“What kind of information?”

“Well.. Voldemort wants to bring Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He’s planning something, I don’t know exactly what and neither does Draco but he’s having him fix these two cabinets that are connected. The other one is in Borgin and Burke’s in Nocturne alley.”

“And he wants to stop him? Are you sure he’s not just using you to get to us?”

“Harry,” Her eyes were powerful and sincere. “I’m sure.”

“Oh, Hermione. When did this happen?”

“I don’t know.. it’s been a few weeks..”

“And you love him?”

She sighed, twisting her hands. “I do. I do so very much I love him.”

“But it’s only been a few weeks.”

“We haven’t been together long but.. I feel it. I don’t know what it is but there’s something… well, magic, bringing us together. I trust him. I trust that he won’t hurt me. He’s.. tender and passionate and very, very sweet.”

She looked at Harry, then. Willing him to trust her. “He won’t hurt us. He won’t hurt you. He just needs our help. We have to help him, Harry. There are things.. I can’t share, they aren’t my things to share, but soon you can know everything and we can stop whatever Voldemort is trying to do.”

Outside in the hallway, Draco Malfoy leaned against the wall, a small smile on his lips, and a silent tear rolling down his cheek.

 

The next morning, Draco rose early and sat at the breakfast table with Sirius, drinking coffee. The man was kind to him, having fully trusted him from the moment Hermione said that he could.

“You better not hurt her, you know.” Sirius said, sipping his coffee.

“I honestly don’t plan on it.”

“Do you love her?”

He breathed sharply, his heart swelling at the idea of loving Hermione. “I… yes. I do. A lot, More than anyone in the entire universe I love her. As sappy as that may sound.”

She walked in, then, rubbing one of her eyes. Hair a mess, and slippers shuffling tiredly, she filled a cup with coffee and sat down heavily on the bench next to Draco, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Morning, sleepy.” Sirius nodded to her, raising his cup and then draining it.

“Morning.” She grumbled pulling her hair into a bun at the top of her head and taking a long drink.

Sirius smiled at Draco and left the room. It was just the two of them, then, and the silence seemed louder. It was a big kitchen, a warm kitchen, with cabinets and cupboards lining the walls, and a huge stove with pots and pans hanging over top. On the one end there was a massive fireplace with a hearth so large that a normal size person could stand in it easily. On the other side was a large china cabinet with all manner of dishes and cups and goblets. The whole room was painted a sort of olive green color, and a long wooden table – not unlike the ones at Hogwarts – stretched the expanse, with benches on either side.

He put his arm around her, then, and kissed her head. “I assume you slept well?”

She smiled up at him, her pink lips so inviting. “I did, thank you.”

He recalled her coming back to bed a little while later, although she had not known that he had heard her and Harry’s conversation. Not that he meant to eavesdrop, but she was gone and he was trying to find her when he heard them. He had shuffled back to bed quietly and waited for her to return. When she did he’d pulled her close to him, and buried his face in her hair. He loved the feelings of her warm curves against him.. even then it cause stirrings…

He kissed her on her full, pink lips. Deep and slow, he pushed his tongue inside her mouth and felt her push back against him. Her breath was ragged and her skin flushed under his hands, and soon hers were in his hair as she turned to get on top of him. Hungrily, she kissed him harder, her teeth scraping against his as her body rocked to get some sort of friction. She wanted him there on the kitchen floor, the table, wherever. But a disgusted throat clear brought her back to reality.

Harry stood in the doorway, arms crossed, a half disgusted, half amused expression on his face.

“Morning.” He nodded at Draco and Hermione, who blushed.

Her lips were swollen and red, and her cheeks were pink as she sheepishly sipped some of her coffee. “Good morning, Harry.”

Draco smirked, running his fingers through his hair. Hermione wasn’t the only one who was very near to losing control. At that moment he was rock hard under the table, not that Harry Potter needed to know that. But he wanted nothing better than to have Hermione spread out in front of him, her beautiful pussy there for him to devour.

Harry sat on the other side of them, none the wiser as he munched on a piece of toast. Draco shifted his hand under the table to run up Hermione’s thigh. She was wearing a fuzzy pink robe, but underneath was just her underwear. She hadn’t even bothered to get dressed before coming downstairs, and that made Draco’ mouth dry and his cock throb.

Harry crunched his toast and Hermione tried to have a conversation with him about a book she was reading that he might like, but it was hard to concentrate with Draco’s hand sliding up her leg. He pushed her thighs apart, tracing small circles inside them. Her muscles tightened and heat flushed to her pussy as she could feel him getting closer… closer…

He smirked, his other hand lifting his coffee mug to his mouth. He touched her, then, and he could see her tense up, her breath hitch, as he sent an electric pulse to her system. He rubbed small circles on her clitoris over the top of her manties, and then long lines down the entirety of her pussy. Lightly, lightly so it tickled he could feel her soaking through the thin cotton. He pushed it aside, his finger sinking between her warm, soaking lips. He traced small circles around her clit, smirking at the expression on her face, and then slowly moved down to put one finger inside her. He moved it in and out, making sure to hit her g-spot so she was practically on the floor. He teased her until she was about to cry out, and then took his finger out of her, moving it to his lips and sucking it clean.

He stood up, then, nodding at Harry and walking out of the room, adjusting himself when his back was turned. He could feel Hermione’s eyes on him as he walked up the stairs to their room. He waited for her, lightly stroking himself so he was ready when she burst into the room. And she did, with fire in her eyes.

“I can not believe you-“

He crossed the room in a second and kissed her hard, trying to communicate how much he loved her and how much he wanted her through the heat of his kiss. He kissed down her neck, pulling her robe down and kissing her shoulders. She sighed, moaning, pulling his face back up to kiss her. His stormy grey eyes intense, almost pained with emotion as he kissed her, holding her face in his hands. She sank against him, submitting to his touch. He pulled her over to the bed and pushed her down, throwing her robe in the corner and kissing down her breasts, stomach, her inner thighs, finally stopping and hovering right above her pussy. He kissed the cotton of her panties, tasting the salty sweetness of her and licking her lips.

She squirmed, moaning, running her fingers through his light hair. “Please” She whispered, eyes wild with need. He flashed her a smile, slowly dragging her panties down with his teeth, exposing her to him. She was so beautiful, so soft and white and pink. His eyes ran over her, hungrily. His mouth watered. He pushed her knees up and spread her legs apart, licking her slowly. She moaned softly, eyes closed. He licked her again, and a gain, his mouth lapping up all of her deliciousness. He sucked on her and kissed her and stuck one finger in, then two, pumping them slowly and twisting them and fucking her until she was a mess under his hands. He needed her, he needed to be in her.

He pulled his shirt off and she smiled at him, sitting up and kissing his chest. She looked up, from under her lashes, sultry and sexy as she unbuckled his pants, and pushed her hands inside. He was hard for her, and so warm. She pushed his pants and boxers down, the soft skin of his cock throbbing under her hands. She got off the bed and on her knees, kissing him softly, a small bead of salty precum coating her lips. She hummed, running her tongue along the underside of his haft, cupping his balls in her hand. She looked up at him as she took him completely into her mouth. His eyes rolled back a little as he pushed his fingers into her hair and she slid deeper onto his cock.

He came back to himself, then. And he was filled with desire and need. He kicked off his pants and picked her up, moving her on to the bed and climbing over her. He looked into her amber eyes, searching them to make sure what he heard yesterday was true. He needed to know, then, if it was true.

“I heard you last night.” He whispered, his eyes boring into hers. “Is it true, what you said?”

“What did I say? She tilted her head.

He hesitated for a second. “You said that you loved me.”

She smiled a small smile. “You heard that?”

He shrugged. “ I went to find you and I overheard. Is it true?”

“Yes.”

His passion was renewed then, and he made sure it was okay before sliding himself deep inside her. She gasped, as she had done before when he entered her. She was tight and wet and ready for him and she felt so good. He moaned as he thrusted into her, relishing the view of this beautiful woman underneath him. He rubbed circles around her clitoris and kissed her breasts, holding her hips as he slammed into her. He kissed her slowly, then, and she sat up, flipping over on top of him and sitting on his cock.

He wasn’t used to someone else taking control, and it was very, very hot. He could feel himself getting close, and she was moving faster, her brow furrowed in concentration and pleasure. She threw her head back, her hair wild, hands pressing on his chest as she rode him. She cried out then, her body shaking as she reached her climax. He reached his, too, his seed bursting inside of her. She collapsed on top of him, his cock still inside her, and kissed his long and slow.

“I love you.” She whispered, laying her head on his chest to feel his heartbeat.

“I love you, too.” He said. Meaning it will every fiber of his being.

_a/n: :^) If you liked it please follow, favorite, and review. The more attention this story gets, the more I want to update it._

 


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